It is a part of my nature, as I believe it is with most people, to do what we are told not to do. This translates into my writing on a daily basis. I find myself sitting at the computer ready to write, with time to write, with an assignment to write, and yet I never write. I find myself reading blogs and strange wikipedia entries on gemstones. Then when I am doing anything besides writing all I can do is write. Most of what I write is initially transcribed on cocktail napkins over lunch while the other person stares at their tuna melt wondering why they hangout with me when all I seem to do is write. I write in the car at stop lights, I write on checks between serving tables and waiting for the shrimp linguini to come off the line, I write in the middle of almost any situation in which I should not be writing. I am not one to complain and that is far from what I am doing. I feel blessed when I write at all because I go through periods where nothing comes at all. There are times when I wonder whole heartedly if I will ever write something worth anything ever again, but then I do. Hemingway told me once that, “you have written before, you will write again.” Thanks Ernest. You are always there for me when I need someone.
Published by Erin Rose Belair
I write because maybe you have felt this way as well. Because none of us truly love or ache alone. View all posts by Erin Rose Belair