The Rantings of a Funked Up Mind

Chapter Two - Early Memories

This chapter is dedicated to @whitecoconut23 because he encouraged me to continue after  pre-reading the first chapter for me.  I also love his books (which I am currently editor of) so if you haven't checked them out yet, make sure you do.  Thank you, my little darling!! xx

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It had only been 24 hours since I posted my blurb.  I couldn't really call it a story because, well, it wasn't.  It was simply me running off at the mouth.  I had checked the number of views countless times throughout the day on my phone. I finally had to go sit it in the charger so that I would stop obsessing.  That was all I needed, something else to add to my obsessive compulsive tendencies.   

I guess I couldn't really be that disappointed that I had only had a few reads.  Thousands of authors posted their stories on this sight every day hoping that someone would take interest.  Despite that, I decided to check once again while my boys sat down to watch a movie.  I found myself resenting the fact that it was summer.  Had it been any other season, I would have had unlimited time to try and figure out what to write next - what to reveal.  Instead, I was waist deep in toys and laundry with barely a minute to breathe or have that so desperately needed cup of tea.

I slipped into the office and sat down at my desk knowing that as soon as the boys figured out I gone, they would come seek me out.  I quickly logged in and waited for the site to load.  I felt me heart skip a beat as the page filled in.  My computer had NEVER been so slow in all my life.  I quickly navigated into the "works" section and once again checked the number of views.  There were 18 - I didn't mind the number.  It represented my favorite song, after all.

Someone had actually given me a star and a very sweet comment.  That instantly picked me up that little bit I needed to write a little more.  The question was 'What to write?"  I knew I couldn't be the only person feeling how I did - so lost within myself.  But if I wasn't willing to talk to anyone "real" about what I was going through, how could I expect any of my readers to just respond to me and tell me about their experiences and share their opinions.  

What was it that made someone willing to share a part of themselves with you?  It was simple.  You needed a connection.  I let out a frustrated sigh as I looked around the messy office.  I had so much on my plate.  I had a huge house to take care of along with kids and a husband who worked all hours of the day and night.  Although his job as a lawyer certainly afforded us nice things, it certainly didn't make my everyday life any easier.  

"Oh my God, what and I doing wasting my time with this?  If a therapist couldn't help me straighten my sh!t out what makes me think I can do it on my own?"  I sighed once again.  I couldn't explained it but something was pushing me to do this.  If I believed in God and all that stuff, I may have considered that someone was guiding me.  I shook off the thought and returned to the empty screen of Chapter Two.  

I wracked my brain to try to come of with something to connect to the read with.  The problem was that a reader could be from anywhere and be man or woman, boy or girl...I raised my hands to cover my face as I let ideas flitter past my closed eyes.  I jumped when the idea hit.  Children.  Everyone connected with a child.  I had mentioned memories in my last chapter.  I would write something about my childhood and see where it took me.  With that, I began my next entry....

Hey, Nina here again.  For those of you who read my first entry thanks so much for taking the time. I would love some feed back on this one though, because to be honest, I don't know what I am doing. I suppose you aren't supposed to tell your readers that, are you??  Proves my point though, right? ;) Anyways, I would love to know what you think of this when you are done and if you want to know more, please ask.  I am an open book because well, on here,  no one know me so in all honesty, it's safe.  Thanks again, Nina xx