Why be a writer anyway…

Nothing I have ever attempted has been as incredibly fustrating as writing.

There are either not enough ideas, or just too many to choose from. Half baked topics or plots rattling around my head at any given time. Even though I jot them down I never seem to go back and see them through to completion. When I do, I feel like they aren’t worth sharing. Chasing perfection, or something close to it.

Lately I’ve been leaving more drafts laying around than my kids have toys on the floor.

Sometimes it’s just a lack making writing a priority, or over thinking which direction makes the most sense to follow… Should I focus on nonfiction, share what little knowledge and experience life has taught me. Or, let my imagination free to just create! Or, should I even worry about a direction at all? Does it really matter in the long run?

Maybe it’s really a commitment issue. I do struggle to see my personal projects to completion. I tend to start things and then allow them to gather dust.

I have this practice of putting something that I need to finish on my nightstand. My assumption is that the end of the day will be when I finally have a chance to accomplish something creative when I have a little time to myself. It never really turns out that way though. Usually too tired to even try, and then another day goes by without any progress.

While this cycle seems to continue, I do find my mind wandering back to wanting to tell a story. Even if it’s just a short one.

I’m making a commitment to myself to keep going and explore what I really want out of sharing words. Whether that’s ideas, or complete nonsense. After all, the more you do something the better you get at it. Eventually I’ll be able to produce something I can be proud of.

I’ve always thought a solid goal is to affect one life in a positive manner each day. Could be simple as making someone smile, or even not squashing a bug when given the chance. If I can figure out how accomplish this with my words I’ll consider myself a success.