Sunday, January 2, 2011
When I was in my young girl dreaming stage of life, being a ballerina or singer or horse trainer or actress was far behind my desire to be a published writer. Not fiction. No sir. I'm really quite terrible at writing fiction (I'm just too corny). I wanted to be the next Elisabeth Elliot. I wanted to inspire and enlighten and encourage other women to be as godly as they could be. But over the past twenty years of wanting to be a published writer, I have one severe problem: everything is half done. I have stacks of notebooks up to my arched eyebrows of poems, plays, and nonfiction articles all over my house. Then someone out there, perhaps named Mr Blog, invented a way for me to "publish" my thoughts and creativity. I think this is going to be really fun. Welcome to my stack of notebooks.