You lost your what?

I have never claimed to be computer efficient, although dear ol' hubby will attest otherwise. I actually lost my blog. Don't ask how, because I honestly can't even begin to explain it. There were email issues, followed by password issues, followed by yet another round of email issues. Hopefully, I will be able to stick to the blog thing this time around.

Life has been busy in my "wanna be a writer/nurse/mom/superhero" world. I have been writing shorts as of late and am praying that someone out there will be crazy enough to actually publish my work. Until then, I'll keep my notepad handy.

Life's not bad today.

Committment to writing

Well, I've really let my blog slip to the back burner. Life has been hectic and I just, well, I just didn't have time. The blog isn't the only thing I pushed aside. My writing has also been left to fend for itself. But a new day awaits.

I recently finished Steven King's On Writing as an assignment for a creative writing course. Wow. The non-preachy teaching method he used was wonderful. His childhood tales really drop your guard before you even realize a lesson lies somewhere within each and every word. I felt like we were two old chums, yucking it up around the fireplace, with hot cocoa and s'mores in hand. The personal mannor in which he shares years worth of wisdom is truly inspiring for novice writers. Here is a man, after all, that wrote his first novel (Carrie) in a tiny laundry room with only a child's desk and typewriter to speak of. He's now published over fifty novels. Holy hell! If he can dedicate his time, in a dungy laundry room no less, why not anyone? Why not me?

So, I am hereby committing myself to no less than 1000 words per day, five days a week.

What was I thinking?

First, I applogize for taking so long with a new entry. Life has been somewhat hectic and, honestly, I tossed my blog to the back burner.

As stated previously, I'm a novice writer trying like hell to get a career going. Which leads me to "what was I thinking"? Why on earth would anyone purposely subject themselves to rejection over and over and over... and over again.

Today is one of those days. I'm taking a creative writing class and, well, while it's fun and challenging there are days that I just think You suck at this. What are you doing?

Then I daydream how wonderful it will be when the acceptance letter finally arrives. Some validation that I do have a creative bone in my body. So, I continue to write. Maybe one day soon that letter will reach my mailbox.

Here's hoping.

Driving by Braille

When I was a little girl, my father would occasionally drive over the center line of the road. Convinced he was the long-lost sibling of Mario Andretti, he had a tendency to drive a touch on the adventurous side. My mom would casually point out the fact that he was hogging the road. By this I mean she gasped at the oncoming traffic, sure we would meet our demise in a fiery blaze of crushed metal, and scream "You're in the wrong lane!"

Dad would simply look over at her and say, "I'm just driving by Braille."

Funny, how a silly little moment can transform into an epiphany. On my way to the grocery store today, I accidentally found myself driving on the little reflectors in the center of the road, the distinct thud, thud, thud under the tires. I heard my father's voice, whispering mischievously. Shel, you're driving by Braille.

When my father passed away six years ago I felt blind-sided, like a Mac truck slammed into me at 70 mph. With my younger sister out of commission due to childbirth, and my older sister frozen in a blizzard of grief, I took on the daunting task of funeral arrangements. I didn't realize until today that, through that week, I had been driving by Braille.

No experience to date has haunted me as my father's untimely death, but there have been many of life's moments I find myself plowing through, oblivious to the answers of the problem at hand. I always manage to find my way into the light, with faith, perseverance, and my father's wisdom left to me in unknown lessons.

Sometimes, you can't see the path before you. Sometimes, you just have to feel your way blindly. Driving by Braille.

When times are tough...

I read. I watch a movie. I escape the horrible reality, whatever it may be at the time, for a few hours. This method, I have found, is quite rejuvenating. The best antidote to real life is loosing yourself in another's tragedy.

Well, that was my method until I purchased the book, Stories of Strength. I still find it easier to drown my sorrows by replacing them with another's, but this book is filled with... you guessed it. Stories of strength. Stories of ordinary people, in ordinary circumstances, that find inner strength to overcome the adversities of every day life.

No matter what the circumstance, your troubles could always be worse.

Winter Blues

In most cases, winter blues can be associated with dismal weather. I, on the other hand, am glum from the deficit of a wintry setting. Nostalgic for the snow-ridden banks, a nip in the air, and a solid snowball fight, I find myself wanting. I long for a trip down a snow-glazed hill on my trusty red sled, wind biting harshly into my cheeks. I wish for an alabaster winterland, to no avail. I dream of building an albino Frosty, dressed to a tee in fluorescent accessories. Snowballs zinging past my ear with a whoosh of the wind. Iceskating on a frozen pond, abandoned by nature's pets for a warm southern climate, would make my heart sing with bliss.
A fine winter wardrobe of suede jackets and fuzzy sweaters lines my closet in hopes that just one cold front will find its way south.

But, alas I find myself nesting with flurry of colorful fowl that has seen my climate fit for the winter. I will break bread for the ducks as they bask in the warmth of the sunshine. Shades of brown from nature wilted at the core will have to suffice in place of my white winter. Sunshine glistening off the pavement must satisfy my holiday. Who would think sunshine could be so lacking?

Where to begin

All stories must begin somewhere. I've been searching for the true beginning of my tale, but keep coming up blank. So, where to begin?

I'm a pretty simple person with high asperations. I love liturature and hope to one day be a published author. Writing has allowed me an outlet for the stresses of everyday life. I'm hoping this blog will entertain a few folks while inspiring me to become a better person and writer. Or, I just may fall flat on my face.

Either way, it should be fun to watch.