I deleted my old blog. My whining doesn't really need to be broadcasted. Instead, I decided to write about writing. So, this is a blog about my writing. My struggles, my triumphs, my crazy caffeine intake, my inspiration.
It will probably be peppered with funny stories from the Assisted Living Home I work at, my crazy dog, and my pretty funny life in general.
I also want to talk about books. I love to read, so I do it a lot. I want to know what you are reading, so that I can read it too!
I figured we should start with a bit of a history lesson. So here goes:
The History of Nicole as told by Nicole
I started writing stories at age 6. Oh yes, I had an overactive imagination. Even all the way back then I loved to imagine a life so different from my own. Not that mine wasn't fantastic, because I had an abnormally good childhood, and really, it wasn't until I was 16 that shit started to get real. But thats another story for another time. I was always intrigued by people. By lives. And I always thought that it was fun to make things up. On the long trips to my great grandparents house, I used to sit in the back seat of my parents maroon mini van, and watch the houses go by, imagining what the lives of the people inside of them were like.
Writing has always been a very private thing to me. Although I can remember a time way back then, when as soon as I would finish a story, I would run downstairs to find my mom so that she could tell me how great/original/hilarious/clever, said story was.
However, the older I got the more private it became. I'm not really sure why. My sister was the only one I would allow to see my writing. And she hated to read.
I guess I always figured that normal kids write stories, its their job to imagine. But as you get older, you are supposed to start acting more like your mom, so imagining was pointless. What did writing have to do with child rearing anyway? And that was the ultimate goal, right? So I did it in private. Like something that I was ashamed of. Its not even that anyone made me feel that way, its just what I thought.
The other side of that could be that I was protective of it. I couldn't handle someone rejecting something that I loved so dearly. So I just didn't show anyone. I figured that I'd beat them to the punch.
I did NaNoWriMo for years. If you don't know anything about NaNoWriMo you should. Click here and do some research so that you are ready in November. Anyway, I did it for years, and no one knew. How sad is that? I figured I would fail at it anyway, so there was no point in sharing it with people. Oh, also, I didn't want anyone to know that I still wrote, so there was that. I was afraid to show people my work because of people's thoughts and religious views. I was afraid of being judged. Judged for my language, my content, my story line. I don't know. I guess pretty much everything.
Anyway, I've gone on like this for far to long. I'm ready to stop. I am engaged to marry the most wonderful boy you could ever imagine. And he loves that I love to write. He encourages me to do so. He helped me win NaNoWriMo for the first time ever, this past November. And I love him so much for that. Because of him, I am ready to face my fear of failure, and rejection. I still don't want to disappoint my mother, but I've got to live life for me now. I am ready to plunge ahead into the unknown because its what I love. And I feel complete when I am creating something. So, go me!
Thanks for listening. I'd love to hear your stories.
I'm the one that's got to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life the way I want to.
- Jimi Hendrix