Who am I to be?

I want to be a writer. I don't think I ever quite realized that or allowed myself to dream for that. Growing up, I had decided I wanted to be a teacher. From the tender age of 7, when I started sitting my sister (who was four years older and thus not quite in need of my instruction) down so I could "teach" her to read from the discarded workbooks our elementary school sold for a dime at the book fair so as to be rid of them, I knew I wanted to do this for life. I meandered my way through school, knowing my goal - to go to college, live in a dorm, own a hamster (a girl can dream, can't she?), and major in teaching while minoring in veterinary (yes, that was a degree in my mind) so that I could work in the zoo nursery during the summers (what can I say? I was ambitious). There were a few times I allowed my mind to wander upon all the careers out there in the world, wondering how a person could ever truly settle on one - there were so many that sounded so fascinating - but knowing I would never have the guts to adjust my goal - it had been mine for so long! Meanwhile, I hoarded notebooks of writing - diaries, journals, thoughts that occurred to me during Bible study, poems, short stories, the beginnings of a novel or two (set to the style of Lurlene McDaniel - featuring a love story between two teenagers, one of whom was dying). In high school I took creative writing - loving the ability to express myself with words. But it never, not even once, occurred to me that this would be anything I would truly pursue outside of my own meanderings.

First of all, I lack the thick skin it takes to show someone else my writing and seek a response in return. I would not be able to stomach the words of critics. Second of all, writing, to me, wasn't a career! You couldn't simply go to school, earn a degree, interview for a job and go at it. No, you had to work HARD, taking rejections from all sides, all the while HOPING someone would find your writing, your own, personal self-expression worthy of the printed publication and then hoping beyond hope that someone, somewhere would actually WANT to read it. No, that wasn't something I considered an option for me. That was what other people did. I was going to be a teacher.

Something happened, though. During my first year of teaching. I liked it. I did. I enjoyed the students most of all. I liked helping them learn, bantering with them, and seeing them succeed (some of them, anyway). But it just didn't FEEL right. It wasn't where I was supposed to be.

Finally I realized. I want to be a writer. I WANT people to read what I wrote and be inspired by it. Touched, moved. I want to write something that means something - the words God wants me to relay. But I'm still scared. And I still avoid it. But I'm trying.

I once visited the website of my favorite author, Francine Rivers. Her writing is who I want to be as an author. Her books have a message and her characters touch you so deeply that I have found myself, on more than one occasion, wanting to pause to pray for them and the situations they are enduring - that they would turn back to God, or heal from their pain, or have the boldness to speak God's word - only to be reminded that this is fiction and prayer requests for fictional characters are somewhat of a moot point as their futures are already penned in the pages. But I want to have that kind of impact - have my reader get that involved in my writing. On her website, Ms. Rivers encourages would-be writers to write a little bit every day. It seems like folksy, bottle-fed advice, which is why I've ignored it for so long. I'll write what I feel like, whenever I feel like and I will not force myself to write without inspiration, thank you very much. The problem with this is I can go weeks or months without "inspiration" and then I feel dry, empty, as though I've lost my voice.

So, here I am, dear blog, using you for my daily meanderings, whatever they may be. You are my outlet for my daily purging of thoughts, feelings and rants on which I spend my days binging. Congratulations.