For the past few years I have concentrated on writing books. I write mysteries, with a spooky twist. None are published, nor have I tried to have them published. Now, that could just be apprehension. What is no one liked them, what if everyone hated them? Coward hey. The books are my babies though, like paintings. When you paint, you do what you feel, keep going until you it's done, then put it away, and begin another. I felt the same about letting anyone see these in the beginning. It's a baring of your soul. A standing in public with no clothes on. Well, you know what I mean. Of course, I moved beyond that, when they began selling. Now with no room to paint, or leave my easel out with a painting in progress, I write. I have to keep creating something, or explode. I was an Art teacher for several years in London. Then when living in New Zealand, I painted, and gave private, adult lessons. I did psychic/spooky stuff, and gave courses in self awareness, and inner growth and development. Back in England though, it's not so easy.....in lots of ways. Oh never mind, I keep going, what else would I do.
I have written about four books, none of them published, nor the final paragraph or two completed. That could be because I write on automatic pilot. I never know exactly what it coming next. It's as much a surpise for me, as it will be to the reader.....should there ever be any. Ha ha. After about six years of writing, and eighteen months of solid editing, trying to get all books to a standard I was happy with, I took a compulsory break. I went back to New Zealand for an extended holiday, and t see my Mum, and fell into blogging. Just a refresher, I said. To give me a break from slogging through editing. I found I really like it. Writing about something different all the time, no more waking up in the wee hours, with plot scenarios going through my head. No more sentence structure bugging me. It was a good break, yes, it really was. I think I must be refreshed by now! what, six months later.
Now, though, it's about time I got back to proper writing. Don't you think? Well, let's face it, it's out of your control isn't it. It's whatever way this head of mine, along with my fingers of course, takes me. It's finding the time too. Perhaps it's all too late, late starter that I am, with everything. Blogging, and life, takes up a big chunk of my day. The truth is, I write just as obsessively as I once painted. I love it, I have to do it, it makes me happy. Let's face it, that's not a bad thing is it. To be creative, and to have the tools to do it. In my case, from easel, and brushes, then laptop, to I pad. It's all a big learning curve to me. Yet how lucky are we, to have such convenient tools to use. Imagine lugging a typewriter. Although I used to carry a book and pen to write. I like that, it was all the transcribing it back to type that broke the spell.
Ahh, spells, now there's a thought. Perhaps I could conjure a good one to get me going in the right direction. I spent years travelling around the world with my psychic abilities too. A chequered past you think? That was great fun as well, very interesting. People are fascinating aren't they. You see, I am a gypsy at heart. I am ready to travel anywhere, at the drop of a hat.
Well, do you think I have solved any of my problems today? No, they are not really problems are they. If they are, they are good ones. The thing is, I have decided I have to live to a very great age. Primarily, because there are so many dreams still to spin.
All I ask, is the energy to do it, and good freinds, and family around, me.
Can I include you in that, my reader?
Good wishes, and may your dreams come true, and endure.
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