why I write and why it took me so dang long to start
I have to do it. I have to submit. I've spent the last fifteen years of my life flittering from one thing to another. It started in college. One major after another. Took me almost six years to graduate because I had so many classes that just didn't count toward the major I was puttering in at the moment.
Then, just when I thought I would continue on in school, I opened a pottery studio. I did that for a while. Moderate success, though I never really put myself out there. I have a few pieces sitting in collections at museums, but never entered too many shows. I started to sculpt. It was fun. Made tiles. Gave lessons. When I began training in a martial art, I threw myself into it and shut down my studio. Earned my pretty belt and got certified to teach. Still, I felt like I was drifting. And living in my own head.
Do you ever lay in bed and try to push your dreams in a certain direction? I do. I retreat behind my eyes and push people around like pawns on a chess board. It keeps me up. But now, since they're all on paper, I can sleep. The nightmares are subsiding.
I need to find my place. I hope it's between the covers of a book.
-chris