Let’s Chat: Childhood Dreams

I always wanted to be a writer.

In fact, I assumed I would be a published author by now. Even if I wasn’t doing it professionally, I for some reason thought I would have something published by the time I was thirty.

I hit 30 recently. And I can’t even refer to myself as an unpublished author.

I’m not sure what happened, when the change from wanting to write to caring less about writing exactly happened. I had dreams of becoming a journalist, thoughts of majoring in creative writing — but what would you do with that?

I tend to talk myself out of doing things that I fear I won’t succeed at. I changed my major to early childhood education when I wanted to major in art history (granted, the university I attended did not offer this as a major, so I guess they talked me out of that indirectly). I kept with my major when I decided I wanted to attend the craft center and receive a certification in fiber arts. I talked myself out of switching to art education out of fear I would never leave school.

I’m not sure when I talked myself out of writing. I’ve yet to ever really finish a story, so I guess referring to myself as a writer of any sort is more of a pipe dream than anything else.

But it’s still there. That want. That wish. It hasn’t completely left me.

I think a lot of it goes to the fact that…I never realized how much work writing is. It isn’t just being creative. You don’t just know what you’re going to write. There’s so much research and planning and…just stuff that goes along with it. And there is something about putting all that work into something and failing at it that scares the daylights out of me.

I mention all of this because I am going to do my best to make some changes. Starting this blog has been fun and I am looking forward to taking my love of reading and books to become better at describing books, learning more deeply why I like the books/authors I like, learning more about me through the books that I like. By starting this, it is also helping me get back into the habit of writing — even if I am not currently typing up posts as quickly as I had originally planned.

I also have intentions of participating in NaNoWriMo for the first time in…eight years? I attempted this for this first time in high school, when this even was only a few years old. I tried again while in college when someone reminded me that it existed. And this reflective state that turning 30 has put me in has left me with lots of thoughts, like the ones I just threw at you in this post. I have a story idea. I have a couple of characters in mind. I have intentions of planning but that hasn’t gone as far as I would like — I have pinned some tips, that’s a start, right?

I would like to complete this, meet the 50,000 word challenge within the month of November. But I don’t feel like that is a realistic goal for me currently. My real goal will instead be to participate. To write. And once November is over, continue with this story. See this story I have in my head through to the end. I am not writing this for anyone but myself. I am mostly writing it to prove to childhood me that yes, I can finish a book. I can stick with something for longer than the fun beginner part.

I can do this.