It’s Been A Minute

It’s been a while since I’ve really felt like writing.  Things have happened, but nothing really that I felt very strong about.  I’ve worked a lot and I’ve thought a lot about where I need to be and where I need to go.  I think as a young wife with no children (which I hope to keep it that way, but that’s a story for another day) that I should be focusing on where I want to be as a human being in this vast world.  So I’ve pondered quit intensely what I need to be doing to get to where I need to be.  My one dream in life is to be a writer.  I want it more than anything else in the world yet here in Wyoming I feel often that it’s like trying to grow a garden in Greenland.  In such a small area with little to be desired in the realm of arts and literature I fear that maybe I’m fighting a losing battle.  And yet I don’t want to move.  I love my home; I’ve grown up here and have so many memories, both good and bad, that I can’t bring myself to even consider moving.  So how can I keep my life as one instead of trying to divide the two sides?  One arm is pulling me home while the other is pulling me into my passion.  I just can’t seem to find a way to keep it all together.  So, alas, I have settled for a hard drive filled with short stories and novels and a blog overflowing with an explosion of emotions and thoughts and dreams.

Lately I have been focusing on what I can do to make my dream come true to become a published writer.  I have studied the few local writers who have been widely published and become what I wish to be.  I’ve found a few publishers and agents that I have tried to contact.  I’ve had a few ideas on who to talk to and what to say.  I’ve even considered going back to school (a thought that I have ultimately decided needs to be permanently pushed to the back burner).  I’ve slaved over ideas that I feel are essential to my happiness in my personal life.

Yet I still feel like I’m a million miles behind everyone else in the way of careers and livelihoods.  I fear that my patience may be a weakness and that if I don’t, in lamens terms, get a move on it that I may wind up so far behind that I can never catch up, not to others, but to myself in my own mind.  And with every passing season I worry that it’s too late.  At 23 years old I worry that I’ve spent my life incorrectly and while I have so many amazing memories and experiences I still feel as though it’s not enough.  Will I regret my life in the future?  Am I beginning to regret my life now?  Have I wasted too much time or was it even wasted at all?

I’ve pondered these things to an extent that I worry I have become obsessed.  Only time will tell if I’ve done it right or if I’ll need to ask for a “do-over”.  The only thing I know for sure is that one day I will have the answers that I desperately need.  I can only hope that one day comes sooner rather than later and that the answers I receive are the ones that I’ve been hoping for.  Until then, all I can do is think.


About Blue

I'm the classiest motherfucker you'll ever meet. View all posts by Blue

One response to “It’s Been A Minute

  • A.K.Andrew @artyyah

    It’s hard to keep things in perspective sometimes when we talk about writing. The many sides of angst draw us in to stop us from seeing the most important thing- that we write because we enjoy it. I didn’t start writing seriously till I was almost 50, and I have, like you questioned whether I made the right decisions , is it all too late etc. but then I remember that Annie Proulx was in her mid fifties when she wrote the Shipping News, and probably in her 60’s when she wrote Broke Back Mountain, so then I feel much better, and inspired, and don’t worry about time ‘lost’ it was never list, it was just bringing me to the place I am now.


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