I Am a Writer … wait am I?



I don’t know if you all remember my very first blog post. If not, here it is.

In that first post I made sure that I told the world that I AM a writer. I asserted it to you and to myself. Let me just tell you that even as I typed those words and shared them, I had a tinge of doubt. Okay, a lot of doubt. And there are still days after having been published as an author, that I still am not sure I Am a writer. Some days, there is not one good sentence I’ve been able to string together and don’t get me started on the days that turns into a week of nothingness. No writing, no story, no snatches of time being revealed to me. I mean, why didn’t they tell me that being a writer didn’t actually mean I’d be able to write all of the time? I mean, being a mother doesn’t ever go away, right?  My skills at motherhood only seem to grow with time and it’s to the point now, that I need no more convincing because my children are alive. They lived past day one, two, and after they talked back to me. They are still living. So yeah, I’m a mother but writing? Not the same thing.

So I only wrote this post as an addendum. I’m a writer, some days, somedays, not so much.

With that said, I am still working on a few projects for release. I so hope that the wait for not just you, but for me also will be worth it. This thing inside of me takes it’s good time to work through me, but it’s necessary for my survival. I have to get the words out. So wait… I have to be a writer, right?



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