Now, it’s Monday.

My goal is to blog more.(But with one computer and my husband needing it for work each day, it creates a conflict.) Why? I have no idea. I have completly enjoyed writing in my blog. Maybe it’s getting more followers that will suffice the small fire I feel burning in me. Or maybe it’s imparting my great wisdom on the world without having to wait for someone to ask for it. Or maybe, I so badly want to be a writer, yet struggle with the feeling of having nothing of importance to write about and submit somewhere, I “settle” for blogging. Where you can write about anything and everything under the umbrella of your own life. You can keep your opinions as just that. Your opinions. Others can choose to accept and no longer “follow” or they can comment about how they agree with your opinions. I think the last one is it. While I do think about my other reasons I named, I do it so much less often than I think about how badly I want to go to a bookstore and see my book on the shelf. The one I created with my words. The one that will hopefully take someone else to a place they enjoy and can get lost in. One that they will come away from saying kind things about. So I sit and TRY to write. This is what I have heard my problem is. I am trying to sound like a writer.
“But I want to be a writer”, I whine.
“You not trying to be a writer is when you are so great”
“What???”
Oh, so frustrating.
My next option, I have been told, is to write about my life. Really?? Who wants to read a book about my life. And what if I offend someone with my opinions. I can’t write a book on my life all peaches and cream. It simply wouldn’t be my life, or anyone else's for that matter. My experiences the past 10 years??? The leaps of faith, the struggles, the pain, the mountain tops, and the laughter. I assure you, there are others out there who have had so much more of those than me. What would make mine special? Or different? Or worthwhile?
So instead, I blog. Hoping one day I will create a great fiction story about someone who does something in some place that is beautiful (or horrible) with someone else that they love (or hate).
If I do, I will have a pen name. I think that holds a much needed mystery. And I have always thought of it to be romantic.