Writing

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be writer. I have even gone so far as to start a few books. In fact when I was in fifth grade I made it a whole 7 pages into writing a book!

But I have never managed that fine art of character development, plot lines, and that magical thing that makes a story come alive in someone's imagination.

I have been devouring books for my entire life. I have read just about every genera there is, and I have enjoyed some more than others. There is a strange kind of magic when I pick up a book and I can see the characters in my mind. I am there when they hear bad news for the first time. I feel it when they get punched in the ribs. I feel the streaks on my face when they cry. There is something incredible about a good book. I so desired to be a part of creating that magic.

But it just isn't in the cards for me.

So instead, I grew up. I moved on. I went to college, I graduated. I got married, I had a son. Life has been so, so good to me. I work a full time job as an office manager at a non-profit Christian camp in North-East Ohio. I have been married for a year and a half, and while my husband and I have had our issues, we work together to get through them, and most of all we love one another. Almost six months ago I had a son. His name is Eli and I love him to pieces (even when all I want to do is crawl back under the warm covers, or get to sleep in until 11am on my days off again.) We live in an adorable little house, on a small block, with sweet neighbors. It's like I said, life has been unexplainably good to me.

There are so many little things that happen on a daily basis that I need to be grateful for, and yet on a daily basis I find myself being not-so thankful...  I find myself full of contempt, anger, and jealousy for the few things that I don't have. My son is healthy as a horse, he is mentally and physically more healthy than I am. My husband is loving, caring, and goes out of his way to make sure that I am taken care of and that I know how much he loves me. My job allows me to bring my son to work with me, so I am not separated from him and I don't have to pay for childcare while I work. I get to follow my passion for working with underprivileged youth on a daily basis. I am learning new things every day that will make the rest of my life more successful and rewarding. I have a plethora of amazing friends that always keep me on my toes and love me both from a distance and up close on a daily basis. What in the world do I have to complain about? My life when written out this way seems like a fairytale even to me.

And yet.... I find myself thinking about the fact that I will never have the skill to write a book. I will never look at the shiny cover of a hardback novel, flip to the back cover of a dust jacket and see my picture there. I will never fall into a world of my own creation.

So I am going to try to find a balance here in my own little world. Where no one is going to read it, I

am going to complain a little. I am going to rejoice a little. I am going to wish a whole lot. Life has so much to offer me and my little family... and I am going to share it all with you, my own little world.

 

 

Always dreaming of My Own Little Creation,

Amie