I have been hearing a voice in my head prompting me to take paper and pen and write. I don’t quite know what about, but I was told by a friend that if I were to write a book (ambitious!), I should do it on paper.
I don’t know if I’m writing to get the juices flowing for my dream to get published to become a reality — or is it simply another love letter to an older me in the not so distant future.
I used to journal longhand, back in the day when blogging was just in its infancy. Or maybe even its toddler stages. I have at least two books (or even three) I had written longhand in — and a third which was a Christmas or birthday present from the ex — once upon a time when he answer to the label “husband” or “honey”. Then I stopped journaling, only to resume it around a decade later.
But before that, I went online and wrote.. took photos and wrote.. and I am still writing. Not quite as much as I had hoped, but at least there is that conscious effort to write again.
My return to written journaling was spurred on by my discovery of art journaling. I picked up a hardbound book and altered it with drawing and color and used it as my canvas. This coincided with a very tumultuous time in my life which meant there was so much I needed to write down. Although I have always said I am not an artist, I managed to create an altered book with my own version of artistic expression, filling the embellished pages with journaling over a period of two years. Then my life somehow settled — some — and the upheaval subsided into a quiet calm. I came to the end of my altered book.
I have tried to kick start my art journaling several times since, but with no success. And yet I know I will keep trying.
So here I am now, pen in hand and almost to the third page of my first story. I feel like that in itself is quite an achievement. These days, I go with a joyful “yay!” to celebrate joy & Triumph. And with a smile on my face, I know I am back into my love affair with paper and pen.