(I lost my password and changed my email, so it has been a interesting trying to get back on here... but Alas! here I am.)

Lately, I have been working on writing quite a bit, for my "novel" to be exact... (or a "novel idea" anyway) and pulling my hair out in the process. It is no easy task. I get very frustrated and hard on myself. The plot alone keeps weening and changing... even the characters. I guess in real life we are truly that way, but it makes it difficult for the creator..so to speak, to keep a grasp on things. Makes me almost sympathize with God.

I want it so bad it tingles in my fingertips and yet I feel I am not worthy of being a writer or simply that I am just not good enough (even if it calls to the bones). Oh the artists and his self proclaimed inefficiencies. Would one be a true artist if not for a little self loathing and criticism? After all we are all our biggest critics and when all is said and done... it is difficult to do what we feel an innate desire to succeed in. Why? Probably because we fear most in ourselves, that which we want more than anything in the world... that which we see VISION and want to do justice by and only when perfected, share with anyone willing to see; be the messenger for something bigger then us.

No easy task my friend.

Isn't that every artist?

I have been in school, and that has helped my insecurities in this field slightly; it is my hope in the end I can at least squash the "inept" nag of a voice down to a quivering almost non-existent microbe of a thought. Then I will be able to leave more room for the creative dragons of my mind, with their fiery ideas. Knowledge is power and that is why I have decided to go to school for that which i want to learn the most about, which I am sure one can guess. English Lit. Writing. There I feel like slowly I am getting the tools I need. (and confidence)

The mind is a beautiful- and terrible thing. It can create amazing worlds full of imagination and dazzling lore...but it can also bring on our demise; trapping us to the dark barred cages of our doubt. It's whether we let it keep us there or simply reach for the key right outside the cold bars, and unlock our tainted vision of ourselves.


That is my process. Allowing the untamed horses of my mind emerge in their gallant strength and endearing beauty.