Writing and Resting

I have always thought that writing would be something I would be doing for pleasure or for income. Yet I have not yet found my voice. I haven't joined any writing groups. I haven't read my writing for anyone. I haven't even studied writing.

I am a bit of a rebel. I belonged to a Creative Writing class in high school for one day. The teacher said "If you aren't published, you aren't a writer." I thought that was hogwash because I had notebooks and boxes full of poems and prose that said I was a writer. Yet that statement stuck. I write but I am not a Writer.

Out of the overflow of my life or my heart, I write because I need to express. I need to understand and get clarity sometimes in ways that only the written word can give. I journal my most intense feelings and personal thoughts in private files as a theraputic and safe way to clear the clutter of my mind. Later I re-read it and usually say "That's not true. It felt true at the time based on where my emotions were, but in the light of day and the critique of a sound mind, it's not true." So my feelings are validated when they need to be and evaluated and given the appropriate credibility through some sober second thought after a rest and a meal.

My dad wrote a song that expressed the same experience. Read it here.

Perhaps it is that I find myself quite interesting. I've no real idea how interesting I actually am to anyone else. If my reader comments are any indication, then, well, I'm not a Writer - at least not one that solicits a response. I'm simply one who writes (like 100% of the rest of the literate population). Maybe I'm a commentator....

"You've Got Mail" had the female character talking about sending things out into the cosmos... and that's what I'm doing.

Sometimes it's expression.
Sometimes it's a prayer.
Sometimes a confession
A breath of fresh air.
My child, my life, my husband, my chores.
Some of it soothes, some of it bores.
I'm really quite normal, as normal can be.
I'm writing a poem and rhyming for free.