When I was younger, I wrote daily. Just little stories about people from the past or the future or in another dimension. I took a writing course by mail and did very well. That is, after the instructor almost destroyed my confidence in my writing ability with her critique of my first story. It took two months for me to rewrite the story and return it. Afterwards my stories got better and I considered being an Author as my occupation. But as time went by, being a teen and the pressures associated with it, college and falling in love, there was very little time left to write. The characters whose stories I had been writing started demanding I give them some attention and continue to tell their stories. I refused. I thought I had better, more important things to do than write their stories. Eventually, they stopped talking to me and moved on. Later, as I got older and able to have time for writing. I only got silence. No one was talking. I imagine some of them left me to find someone willing to tell their stories. The ones remaining with me were standing in the background arms folded across their chests and their noses in the air ignoring me or at least giving me that impression. Lately I have been trying to coax them to start talking to me again. I've been able to get some to give me a scene here or there. Just last week one of them came forward and gave me the start of a love poem. I'm still hoping she will step forward to complete it. My characters are definitely warming toward me and showing me that I am on my way to being forgiven. So now the journey begins anew. Wish me luck!
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