Sunday, February 22, 2015

Stories

I want to be an author. I want to write something that will resonate with this world and humanity in a way that my time-stamped oral utterances cannot. I want to breathe something into a bona fide, tangible existence… words outside of myself, freed from the limited expression of my personal countenance that someone else will consider worth reading. I’ve been writing stories in my head for as long as I can remember. Pearls of thought that I’ve stored up in the caverns of my creativity, just waiting to be strung together into something meaningful… the only problem is that I can’t seem to find the time to start stringing in earnest. I have bits and pieces of isolated stories in places. But I just don’t know where to begin. 

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