Writer?

“I don’t really think of myself as a writer.” ~ But after blogging 31 days in a row for blogtober, I think I've changed my mind.

The words tumble out of my mouth, and onto a page. These thoughts in my head, keep flittering around and it just feels good to get them out. I sigh. I write to make sense of things. The truth I’ve learned is that I matter. And words matter. My words matter.

Writing is therapeutic. It’s an outlet for my feelings, ideas, thoughts, opinions and emotions. It helps to clear my mind and makes more room for all the other ideas and thoughts that keep crowding in. I'm drawn to putting my thoughts into words, then stringing them together on a page.

I've loved to write for as long as I can remember.

In the last few years I've had a dream to someday write a book.  It's something I've been thinking about and it just won't go away. So lately, I've been reading books about writing and doing some research online about writing.  And ... well... um ... I've been writing too.

Time will tell if I actually have something worth publishing, but for now one has to start somewhere. So I'm starting. Starting to pray, seek, learn, write, and believe.

Could I possibly be a writer?

I dare to paint a satisfied smile over my face.

Blessings