I have been encouraged lately to write down my feelings as a tool to relearn them. It has been an eye opening experience. I often write internally well before it reaches my fingertips on a beautiful mechanical keyboard. This specific gathering of letters has festered in me for several days while particles have surfaced here and there. It is amazing to experience life changing moments as you see the words form within you, knowing you will struggle with emotion when you finally type them out.
Lately I have been feeling a wild unknown urge. It pulls on my mind during idle moments as well as those moments when I should be awake and functioning yet, I find myself searching. It floods my mind as I lay awaiting sleep. This ache greets me first thing in the morning with little control.
While out and about small findings were collected and saved as quips. These quips range from unique things orchestrated by people or even something as simple as a discarded object. These humorous happenings belong in a book. The book will add those quips with small amounts of information between each section. I’ve debated on the direction these expansions on small quips should go. I think a book, focused on humor or not, should also have some meat to it. By that I do not believe that art should be screened or put into specific mold. Writing doesn’t have to be heavy. By meat I suggest that art should reach out and grab someone and fill them with that thing you were so driven to write.
Recently it has come to my attention that so many people lack the important life skills needed to take care of themselves and be independent. These important life skills can and should bring about a certain amount of pride within a person. Yes another book I am interested in writing.
I have finally worked out how to marry the two writings in a way that is absolutely my writing style. Being able to say that I have, recognize and am steadfast to my own writing style, alone gifts me with a small taste of pride.
Focusing on my own website I realized that I write a wide variety of content. I write reviews, humor, rants, stories and personal experiences but at the end of the day I was writing for the sake of writing; writing because that is what I love to do. In a way you could say that I was writing to sharpen my writing style. Sharing another writers perspective, there is of course a negative way to write for the sake of writing. I have over the course of a lifetime had many reason to write. I believe this is pretty much a standard for many individuals. Aside from schooling, writing a novel in junior high, college and finally work and personal drive there has been so much writing that never graces paper or screen.
One of the biggest genres that I focus on more often than I realized, or would consider admitting, is a genre that is very often scrutinized and used in jokes and movie lines. I tend to write in that genre but steer clear of labeling it as such. For some time I have realized that there was a flavoring of it in my work. It was easy to be neutral about beings I write many genres.
When I group all of my articles together they are in one way or another geared towards self-help and empathetic articles. Two of my books and one of my favorite (dear goodness talk about a blush of humility) shorts all deal, in one way or another, with encouraging people to live life with passion and determination. I am so passionate about reaching even one person to help brighten their day or hold their hand, that I throw my work out into space knowing that few will truly ever see it. I write and write with passion each artistic moment, for the words that are hidden here in my corner of the web. Yet, I had not found what that passion really was.
So many times in my life I have found things to love. I sought so many things that I thought could be that passion in my life that I was so fervently searching for. I had and have it in my mind that I was born for a reason, that all people are. I hold it in my heart that there is a reason my soul continues to find that place that I can give back. These things sought, come to find out, were flowers along my path that I enjoyed, loved and eventually moved past entirely or carried a few blooms along with me.
One of the greats, to whom I greatly aspire to encourages being an individual and finding your individual strengths, rather than gauging your own work on their success. (Hence the reason I’m not mentioning names)
This urge has become so great that I feel as though part of my life and the energy I’ve spent in others has truly led up to this moment. While I should admit that this could pass, I also know that this urge that was building is there for a reason. The urge to help others and to support them has been woven into the very fabric of who I am.
Yet this distraction felt different. After all I already knew that I love people. I already knew that I often write for them. But for some reason I didn’t realize how significant it could be to finally find the combination of the two. This urge in the morning, during my day dreams and all through the night was a small portion of myself finally seeing through the fog something that I pushed away as something I could not achieve on its own.
I write this article with tears in my eyes and a heaving chest. This! This is the urge, the drives and the pounding wave in my head calling; wake up!