Why a Writing Heart?

As I attended my first writing conference this summer, one of the first questions that I would inevitably be asked is, "When did you start writing?"  I would feel perplexed as I tried to give a polite answer.  I honestly don't know.  I don't have a specific moment of awakening or even a teacher who inspired me (though many were inspiring).  I don't have that "come to Jesus" moment.

To me, writing is like breathing.  It is something I do without thinking.  I may not be poised with pen in hand every moment of the day but ideas come all the time  If I don't write and release all that is in me, I feel like I could burst.  There is an actual physical tension that builds up in me when I don 't write.

I feel weird even writing about it.  I am inadequate to describe it.  I can't control it and I sure didn't choose it.  I am it.  It is an innate part of my being.  If I were stranded on a desert island I would want a pen or pencil and paper.

The paraxical part of it all comes with the fact that I am such a people person.  It is acutally a force of will to make myself sit down, settle down, and write.  I want to be up and going and talking and doing but if I don't write the volcanic tension continues to rise until I take up a pen again.  And yes, I said pen.  Though I am not afraid of my computer, my natural creativity still flows best with pen and paper.  I kick it old school that way.

One of my goals walking away from the writing conference was setting up my own space to write.  When I arrived home it seemed like it was going to be impossible to find the space, money, and time to get it all set up.  Thankfully my husband was willing to part with a piece of furniture and the money we made from selling it was put into a desk.  With it gone, that also opened up the space for said desk.  I have a little organizing to do but my writing corner is ready.  It feels good to accomplish this first goal.