Huh? Those were the good ole days.
After my daughter convinced me to join her in her home-made clubhouse (a blanket draped over the arm of two sofas), I nestled in there with a book I happened to snatch on impulse--On Writing by Stephen King. I read it before and as I started looking through the pages I marked, I realized I needed to read it again.
When I read it the first time I was a novice. Now, I'm a little bit inclined to say that I have gone beyond to really, really appreciate his words. He writes about The Stand and how he fell into a slump and thought about giving it up. How he started going for walks, brainstorming how he could fit the pieces of the book together. He didn't want to give up on it. And then what I call the a-ha moment that sent him back into his writing cave. God I love those a-ha moments. The idea is fresh, raw, and the story connects in a way you didn't intend.
After my little slump, I want to feel that again. I want to write to enjoy it. I want to share that piece of me without caring what people think. Turning off that mental freak in me that warns me against it.
So I did.
I opened up an account on Wattpad. Don't roll your eyes. It is another time suck, but I don't care. I went back to the short stories I wrote that will never see publication because I just don't have time to clean it up and find a home for it. Not in this lifetime. So I dusted it off and posted it. With no expectations of any kind. Just to have it out there. And it feels good. Raw. Naked. Exposed. Type of good.
Now if only I could learn how to make a kick-ass cover. lol