Perspective

It hasn't been the easiest of weeks when it comes to thoughts racing through my head. I wish I could write everything down like I used to. Instead it all stays locked away...which is probably for the best. There are more grown-up aspects of writing your thoughts down for the Internet to read to consider these days.

But I will say this: it is amazing how much your life can change in just 10 years. (Or maybe not, depending on how you measure time...) In 2003, I was just barely in college, just barely discovering myself. It was one of my worst years when it came to anxiety and how I dealt with it. I let my happiness be determined by others. I could only hope that one day I could say I was a writer, much less have anything published for real instead of writing endless blog entries of fiction and life two people read.

Now? I've worked for publications and experienced television - something I never imagined I'd do. I fulfilled my dream of interviewing my favorite band. (Still one of my favorite pieces I've ever written.) After having it all, having nothing and having a little bit of something, I finally feel like I have it all when it comes to career. I'm back on track and excited to find where it all leads. I have a blog to call my own and a reason to chase after the one thing that's always made me happy: music.

I think back to those nights I felt so alone, back to the afternoons when panic attacks ruled my life. I think back to not letting friends in and feeling like I had no clue what I was trying to do with my life. It might some hyperbolic, but I'm just so glad I survived it all. Because life got so much better. SO much better.

And not everyone can see that.

After this week, I'm so grateful I did.

The Writer Who Didn't Write.

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This is a story about a girl who wanted to be a writer when she grew up. Except she never did one very, very important thing: WRITE.

In case you didn't guess...that girl is me. Every week I take time to catch up on all the blogs I follow on Google Reader. And every week when I do so, I wonder..."Why don't I blog regularly? I really should..."

I follow Advice to Writers on Twitter, and I find myself saving the ones that pertain to writing habits. Like if I favorite enough of those quotes, it'll somehow motivate (read: guilt) me into writing.

But the truth of the matter is...I've let myself turn into a writer who doesn't write.

Why? Because I lack discipline. Right now, anyway. I'd like to think I don't lack it completely because I write for work constantly. That's what they keep me around for. I write articles. I write press releases. I write an entire blog (three entries a week).

But I don't write for myself.

I guess I keep thinking, maybe I'll find that magic switch that'll change everything and make me WANT to write. But you know what? It doesn't exist.

And I hate that I keep writing about this tired, boring subject over and over in a blog called "girls like words." I don't like words - I love words. I just seem to have forgotten how.

So perhaps instead of insta-sharing everything via Twitter and Facebook...it's time to revert back to blogging about it.

Novel idea, if I do say so myself.

The Casual Vacancy

I cannot believe it has been more than five years since I held a new J.K. Rowling book in my hands. I love this woman's ability to write characters so compelling you fall in love with them - even the antagonists.

More to come when I finish this. Can't decide if I want to dive in and read it straight through or take my time and enjoy every word...

On writing...

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I start. I stop. I stare at the semi-blank computer screen and think for ten minutes straight. I read and re-read what I've written. I read it out loud. One sentence isn't perfect. I know I can do better, so I spent the next 20 minutes finding the words trapped inside my head. I listen to music constantly for inspiration. I endlessly jot down obvious notes and random thoughts in my writing journal.

Welcome to the last few days of my life. And the crazy part? Tonight as I was working, I realized I'm nowhere even CLOSE to actually writing anything real yet. I'm still working out characters, relationships, story lines...I know a lot, but it's a lot of peripheral details that don't lead anywhere. Once I have all those worked out, then this story that's been swirling around my head for years will finally have the chance to get out.

But even though there's so much work to be done, I cannot wait for it. I already desperately want to fade away into this world I'm creating inside my head and on journal pages. It's reality amplified - exactly as it should be.

Permission to dream

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Dear M,

You're scared. And I get that. It's terrifying being on the verge of doing something you've dreamed about for years not knowing if you'll make it through; if you'll find the right words; if anyone will even care when it's all said and done.

So do something for me. Make a list of all those doubts. Put them down on paper. Let ink bleed from pen like blood gushing from a vein. Get it all out of your system and once it's out, let those doubts stay on that piece of paper because you don't need them. Rip it up. Burn it. Tuck it away in a secret spot.

Then, give yourself permission to dream.

A love letter...

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Dear blogging,

I miss you. A lot. I hate that we don't spend time together anymore, and I'm a big enough person to admit it's completely my fault.

See, I've been writing - seriously writing - for years. Well over a decade, in fact. It started in high school when my creative writing teacher got me addicted to writing in journals. Fifth period became my favorite part of the day, where I'd spend the 48 minute class pouring my soul onto paper...a practice that would usually bleed over into sixth period pre-calculus and probably didn't do my steady-B-that-could-have-been-an-A-if-I-just-applied-myself any favors since I spent most of my time making sense of the thoughts in my head rather than sense of the numbers that didn't compute.