30 October 2011

Talking about writing

Fine, I shall write. I am at my parent's. I am in my room, bored, why? No idea. I have plenty of things I can do, but I guess you could call it one of those lazy days. Or maybe is the heat. I always get lazy and grumpy with heat. Is why I miss NL's cold weather. I need to keep writing my novel, I expected to do that this weekend, but like I say, uninspiring place means I'm uninspired. My room is not my room anymore, is only but a warehouse of my youth. Soon to become my parent's room. And I will only have a visiting bed in my sister's room. Makes me want to visit less often.

You see, my family is great, is loving. But is too... Individualistic. Everyone do their own thing. And I enjoy having my own space. Ever since I was a little girl, my own space is a desk. My room has no desk anymore, as it is at my new place. My desk, is where I seek inspiration daily. To write, to draw, to joint down ideas, pretty much anything. My desk, is my zen place. Not having it anymore every time I come back home makes me feel... Homeless. I sit here on the bed looking for inspiration and finding none. In NL I asked my boyfriend for such a desk, one small corner that is my own. He wanted to give it to me, but he still haven't found the perfect one. He want one I can actually use without issues, so I have to credit him for that even though I am fine with building a cheap yet functional one. He insist on getting me a good one. In NL I feel at home, but I will feel fully at home when I also have my desk, my spot, over there.

I write since I was a child. Kids would be amazed by my quick use of rhymes, adding that to my drawing skills for an 8 year old. They always said I should become an artist, or a writer. For some reason I picked the first. Now, scared, yet with faith, I am testing the waters of writing little by little. Even though inhale my art commissions to keep at. I want to write too. I want to do both. And I need a desk to do so, or at least a cold temperature. I was looking back at my files since high school, and I realized, I've started about 6 novels and finished none. I wonder why. But I keep writing, and I will finish one, that is for certain. And if successful I will take one another one and then another. I need to get out these thousand stories I got stuck in my head. I need to. Today, sunday, I was expecting to write about 10 k words, 2k an hour. But it seems not to be going well. I'll try now and do at least 3k.

Love.
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