Monday, March 16, 2015

Conversations With Stuffed Animals

When I was about four years old, I asked my mother to write our address down.

She wrote it on the back of a plain, white envelope. I then took that envelope into my bedroom, which I had converted into a classroom. I lined up all of my stuff animals around the room, assigned them names, and made name tags for them. I then proceeded to teach each of them how to write our address; copying my mother's handwriting over and over again, until each student had a small piece of paper in front of them with the info.

Of course, I'm sure things were misspelled and not even legible, but the point being, even at age four, I had created a knack for myself. Not only did I personify each stuffed animal, giving them names and voices, I had begun the early stages of learning how to write.

And I was teaching.

My powerful four year old mind had the capability to believe I was teaching something to someone else. It didn't matter that they were just, in essence, stuff animals; stuff animals who couldn't think, feel, or speak (let alone write). I believed that they were real and that they could do anything I taught them.

That was all that mattered.

Friday, March 13, 2015

Spring Cleansing and Ten Steps to Leaving Survival Mode in the Dust

Once again, I'm dusting off the old blog in hopes of using it to revamp and restart my writing career. I've deleted old posts, and renamed and changed the scheme of things around here. It was time. I've linked my Google profile to my LinkedIn profile, where I've added a few projects and updated work experience. I also use Google Docs, where I realized long ago, I added many writing samples (however outdated some of them may now be :(

I've used this blog for various things over the years: ramblings, therapy, poems, challenges. Now let's try using it for "professional" purposes. As you might have been reading this, did your mind create a deep, manly voice when you read over the word"professional?" Mine did. Anyhow, recent events have encouraged me to make an effort to get back into my writing as much as I possibly can, and to try to make a living at it. I've tried this before, and got a decent start, but then I let it get away. Fear stopped me.

However difficult fear is to deal with, if you allow it, it can be a powerful tool to motivate you if you can get past the initial phase of letting it consume you because you don't want to fail stage. But that's the stage I've been stuck in for a while. Time to buck up and be brave; tear down walls I've put up in spite of myself. I stopped blogging for the pure reason that I didn't want to put myself "out there" any more than I had to. But then, what's the point to writing?