Writing is a form of art, according to some people. This instance I am referring to painting, drawing and sketching. I have always placed great value in that type of artistic talent and admire anyone that can do it.
Why is this appearing on my blog? I can visual scenes of my books in my head, see what is happening. Yet, I cannot express it properly or fast enough to keep the image in my head.
As a child I could paint, and my mother sometimes mentions that. But, over time writing took that place and that painting ability was lost.
I love writing and I hate it at the same time. Too many opinions. Too many people wanting a writer to do something out of the norm.
Painters, drawers and sketchers do all their work for themselves. No need to ever sell any art worldwide. It’s just for them. Because of this, I am adopting that theory.
Sure, I have self-published two books, but that was mainly to have physical copies of my book for myself, my family and friends. What it comes down to is, I need to return to writing for myself and no one else. I used to write 3 novels a year in high school. Now, it takes nearly one year to write a book of the same length. I get distracted more now then I did before.
This summer I plan to refocus my attention for my writing. Try to change it back to the way it was, except for I will include the hubby more instead of blocking him out like I did back when we were friends in high school.
Challenges will arise, including my horrible talent of procrastination, but I will succeed. If I cannot be an artist and have beautiful works around my place (although, I would really enjoy being able to display my talent instead of concealing it in a storage container), I mine as well be a writer and fill empty journals with words.
Back to battling procrastination. Let’s hope we get the storms we are supposed to get in the Niagara Region. The smell and sound of rain, the flash of lightning and the crack of thunder spark my imagination.
Thanks for listening to my rant. Writers are amazing, but so are artists.