I was a writer. Every scrap of paper- envelopes, homework, notebooks upon notebooks- used to be filled with my scribblings. I have a stack of folders and notebooks absolutely crammed with writing. I used to be bursting at the seams with all my ideas! And now. . . ?

I was a writer. I always wanted to be a writer and still do. And when I look back, I realize that I was, in fact, a writer. And now I am not. I just want to be a writer. And I hate that. I hate how utterly useless I feel. I hate how I seem to have turned against myself, given up on my dreams, grown lazy and walked away. I hate that! And if I had a motivational coach, they'd be asking me right now: What are you going to do about it?

This. This is what I am going to do about it. I am going to be on here, working. Even if the writing is flawed, even if the writing is terrible and misdirected, I'm going to write. 

My main project right now is the story currently titled: "In Which Prince Charming Arrives At My Doorstep Unannounced". That title is 100% likely to change. I can't pinpoint my title but I'm not too concerned. I've been working on this story for many years. Main characters have changed, POV has changed, villains have become heroes and heroes villains, new characters have popped up and some have gone away, names have changed, and whole scenes have been dissolved from the story. So now I'm sitting down, with all my new changes, and I'm writing a draft. Please take a look if you can and let me know what you think.

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