I have always wanted to be a writer. I have been a reader since the age of 4, and devour books at a rate that astounds my husband. Within our one bedroom apartment reside approximately 500 books of various types, filling bookcases and half the main wall in the bedroom. These are my friends when I am lonely, and my resource when I sit down at the computer to begin a new writing project.
What do I write? The simplistic answer is whatever I can get paid for. The real answer? I write what flows from my brain out through my fingers and onto the page on the screen of my monitor. Then I save it to whatever cyber-folder I wish. Sometimes I even submit a project to various publishing venues.
But lately the words I type have been kept inside my computer, brought out each morning to be edited and cleaned up. Then I write more. And more. The current Work In Progress (WIP) is starting to take on the size of the Titanic blueprints. But then, this is the one I’m planning on actually finishing. And rewriting. And sending out into the wide world of literary agents. It has become my project for this year.
And I am loving it. And hating it. And hoping against hope that by August I can type THE END.
So if you are a writer, or a reader, or a combination of the two, welcome. Join in on the conversation.