I have delved into writing only a couple of years ago. I had always liked to write, but had never taken is serious. Letters to my friends and family was mostly what I did. They would frequently get long musings on what was going on around me, my thoughts, and my feelings. I found no one that wrote like I did. Meaning, I rarely got a letter back, and if I did, it was a short one pager. Occasionally, I felt the need to write a short story. I had great fun doing this, but I didn’t do it that often because I spend most of energy elsewhere.
One day, I felt the urge to tell a story. I searched the internet for a writing site. I found one and I haven’t stopped since. I have realized writing fiction appeals to the dreamer in me. I can go anywhere or do anything. Yet, there are parameters. It has to sound realistic enough to keep the reader believing. That gives me a challenge that makes me feel giddy.
For about a year, I thought hard on being published and what that entailed. How would my life change? The whole of my thoughts are too plentiful, so I will spare you. Suffice it to say, I decided it didn’t matter. I came into writing for the love of it. That should be my primary focus.