Write it out

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I find it distinctly odd that every blogger I know personally (as in met and then discovered their blog) has a blog about writing, and I have a blog about fashion. Or attempts at fashion. Or the justification of having a much too large wardrobe. Call it what you will.

It should make sense to me - I used to write fervently, so of course, I would surround myself with writers. At one time, I wrote so much, I could even crack out of a screen play in one Christmas break (it was titled "Twitterpated" and still makes me laugh to this day). Despite having undergone Literary studies at 3 different universities, there has never been such a concentration of English majors who are creative writers as in Regina. That should have been inspiring, but it was intimidating to say the least. After all, these are people who actively seek out public reading opportunities, and submit their work for publication (a huge congratulations to Cassidy of Riddlehoard for her upcoming writing appearance in The Fiddlehead).

My last serious bout of writing (it is a disease, a compulsion, an addiction) was in December of 2008, almost 4 years ago. It was an amazing experience - I took a favourite Christmas CD, and wrote a musical, using each song as it appeared in the track list. Copyright issues would naturally be an issue from day one, but I never intended it to be seen by anyone except the professor for whose class I was writing it. One day he stopped me in the hallway and suggested I adapt it for radio, and he would help me get it produced on air. After floating on cloud nine for two days, I forgot all about it.

I haven't written creatively since.

In the last couple days, I've been feeling an urge to write. No, urge is not the right word - a need to write, as though I will explode if my mind isn't given the liberty to put thought to paper. It usually happens at the oddest times - like Monday morning as I was hoping to stop in at the apparently closed library, without having my laptop, or even a paper and pen. Attempting to assuage this need by visiting a bookstore to get resources for the whole "research" thing serious writers apparently do made the need stronger, and more insistent. But a problem cropped up immediately.

What do I have to say?

I used to be brimming with ideas, and it seemed the more I wrote, the more ideas I had. I know I just to start, anywhere, and the ideas will start as well. I know starting is the hardest, but I just need to write it out.