Writer's Remorse

I sat down

and dug from my soul

and laughed

and cried

tore up the papers

the pieces

of my mind

bared

to myself

more than I wanted to



remember.






Notes on Writing: Writer’s Remorse was originally birthed as a doodle in a Creative Writing class. It was nestled among notes that read “Inspiration” and “Writing-a sensual activity-Paper and Parchment.” It flowed from my expensive Montblanc pen (a gift) onto my cheap, but serviceable yellow tablet (my own purchase) in one lump sum. I tried to name it "Remember” but later realized that it was truth incarnate of what I was to face if I chose to write again- and so “Writer’s Remorse.”

I Am Here

I am here. Sitting at my desk, empty tea cup at hand, out of breath and full of frustrated anticipation. My goal is simple, to do that thing I used to do; to put pen to paper, or as is the case these days to attack the keys of my helpless keyboard in the swift method of a hunter pecking out each symbol, wishing I had listened to my father and learned how to "type." Yes, I, two days before I mark the half century of my earthly existence, am starting a blog. It is for me, but I must say, I hope that you will read it as well, and cheer me on, or perhaps shake your head glad that I am only taking up air, and not truly denuding the rain forests with my thoughts.

I read some months ago a friend or acquaintance perhaps, who stated something to this effect, "like the world needs another blog, but I am going to write one, because I need to." Yes, I need to. I can't write a page without writing a paragraph, and I certainly can't write a story, an article, or a book, if I can't write a page. So, here it is, my first blog. I have not written anything more than college papers, grocery lists, and the occasional thank you (I am trying to get better at this) in fifteen years. I may frame it, like a new business frames their first dollar bill. For every encouraging friend who has said, "You need to write a book!", thank you, and how about I start here.

So follow me. If I offend you by my faith or by my foolishness, read on, remembering that I am but a simple woman, who sometimes has had an interesting life, often without my permission, and has managed to step in the muck more than once. Much more than once.