My writing is pretty terrible. So why do I want to write? Why not just work at something else that I might be able to do well?
I am not really sure. I just feel compelled to write. It is pretty funny as my hand writing is awful and my typing is so slow. And what do I have to write about? Not much really. I can write about my anguish as a Mom and worrying about my son’s grades. I can write about getting older and finding new things I cannot do now that used to be so easy. Like opening jars or getting in and out of a truck. I can write about how hard it is to lose weight. I could write about how difficult is it is to stay in touch with friends, despite having more time and better technology. There are plenty of people blogging about those very things.
So what do I have to say that hasn’t already been said a thousand times? And if it has not been said, then maybe no one is really interested in reading about the subject as it must fall outside the experience of everyone else out there.
And I think I have successfully become a “jack of all trades, master of none.” I can cook, pretty well, know nutrition, pretty well, can practice law, pretty well, can be a nurse, pretty well and teach, pretty well. But……..I am not an expert at any of those things.
So, maybe I should just write about the meaning of life. Why not? Isn’t everyone as much and expert on that subject as anyone else? So, what is the meaning of life? Some say to be good enough to look back and say you did a good deed for someone. Maybe the meaning of life lies in what you have accomplished. Some say it is to be able to sleep at night. Raised good children, made a lot of money, left a legacy. I still am not sure and I better hurry up and figure it out as I am pushing 61. Some of my contemporaries have already passed on.
Naw, I really just want to write a good mystery. (One for my grandchildren or grand nieces and nephews to read.) I have a character, what is her name? Anyway, she is a semi-retired college professor. She stumbles on to an intriguing situation. Her friend, a desk cop, fills her in some details he shouldn’t. She has an insatiable appetite for unusual facts. In this particular case, she is convinced that someone she knows it behind it all. ………
She wonders if there is cause for concern. Is