Born With a Pen in My Hand

My Third Grade Journal & Storybook

My Third Grade Journal & Storybook

When I look back and try to trace when I started writing, I can’t quite put my finger on it but it was early. I’ve always loved good pens, pretty journals, and the words that I could create with them. I literally have shelves full of leather bound journals, usually half empty (or half full, depending on your perspective) and cigar boxes full of old pens.

And with that fascination, also came a huge appreciation and love for books. I’ve also been a reader from the very beginning, and I read 15-25 books at a time. Thank god for Kindle! It sometimes takes me years to finish them, but I always have and learn from them.

I know I am supposed to write. I’ve known it since I was young. The power of words to inspire and lead has always been obvious, yet I have denied or resisted it for a long time. I used to find such joy in it, hiking to remote areas and just sitting with my favorite journal for the day, and writing whatever happened across my mind. Sometimes it was fiction stories, although I seemed to struggle with those a bit. The writing I loved most, was usually from the heart, about my experiences and what I was feeling. Or, how world events made me feel. Somehow, I’ve lost touch with the joy of writing, preoccupied I think with the monetizing of my writing. I’d like to get back in balance with that, which is part of the reason I am looking forward to the Author’s Blog Challenge.

Just one of the shelves of old journals I keep

Just one of the shelves of old journals I keep



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