I read a really great story today. It was full of mystery, love, sunshine, and furniture. It made me laugh and it made me cry. It gave me a renewed sense of love and faith in mankind. I came away from it feeling all warm and cozy inside. What was this story, you might ask.

Well, it is actually one of my stories. Yes, I wrote the story. Now, I am not trying to brag here. I know I am far from being the best writer in the world, or maybe even on my street for all I know. But the thing is, I love writing. Sometimes I will go back and read a story i wrote and I will get so caught up in it, I wonder what is going to happen in the end! It’s kind of funny actually…I’m not sure if that is because I really do have a bad memory or….well, what else could be the reason for that? I’m really not sure. It’s like my stories are relatives that have moved far away for a long time and I’ve kind of forgotten about them. And then they suddenly appear again.

Sometimes when I sit down to write, it is a real challenge. I don’t always like writing then. But sometimes, I can’t wait to get to the computer because the story is coming faster than I can keep up with. My fingers are flying and my mind is screaming “wait for me! Don’t leave me behind or I’ll get lost!”  That is when I feel like I am just discovering stories that have already been written somewhere out in the universe or something. That is when I feel like I am getting a special gift or being used as a tool. (in a good way) It makes me happy.

It’s true, I would love to be a real “author.” I would love to have books on a shelf somewhere with my name on the spine. That is a dream of mine. But the real desire I have in my heart is to be able to get all these stories that are swimming around in my head, down on paper. Or, cyber paper. I don’t want to miss out on a story!

It comes down to a real need that I have to create. Whether it is making cards, scrapbooking, sewing or…even writing. That is where I find my joy. (Outside of my amazing children that is…) When I make something or write something great, it is like I am being filled up with an incredibly bright light that just warms me from the inside out. I get all giddy and excited and feel like dancing around the room. ( and I do sometimes….) It’s my happy place.

So, maybe my floors are a bit dirty and dishes aren’t always done. Maybe instead of folding the laundry on my bed I just push it to the side and curl up next to it. Does it really matter? Cause in the end….shouldn’t we all do what makes us happy? I mean, what would the point of life be if we were just…not happy? Sounds pretty pointless to me, I choose to be happy! So….watch for my book! Coming soon….cause I said so. 🙂