I’ve always loved to read. Anything. My parents love telling people that when I ran out of things to read, I used to read the phone book.
But reading has always been my escape. I love sinking into a good story. To surround myself by characters that I love or that infuriate me. I love losing myself in their lives.
Writing used to be the same for me.
I wrote short stories – where I lost myself in my character’s stories. Like many writers, I used to complain that I didn’t know what the character was going to do next… It was their story, not mine.
I haven’t written a short story in a long time.
The characters have disappeared.
Maybe I’m too wrapped up in my own life – my own thoughts and emotions and fears – and the words won’t come out.
I struggle through blog posts… writing a line here.. and a line there..
I can’t lose myself.
At least I still have books.