I am not particularly proud of my last few posts as they’ve been lazy, last-minute posts, or added after the fact. I love language and how careful word choice can really make the words to take life and convey emotion. I envy people like Anthony Hopkin’s who command the English language so beautifully. I envy the eloquence of former President Obama. I feel so hopelessly inferior. I need to remind myself that these men have far more experience and years of practice crafting their words. So I sit here convincing myself that I haven’t missed the bus, that I have merely a long way to go, and that I must go forward with intention.

Before I convey the wrong idea, I want to clarify that the last thing I would desire is to have either one’s fame. I truly love my anonymity; however much this may be a testament to not having accomplished much on a large public scale. Perhaps that’s not entirely accurate. I would much love to have a recognition behind my name, but not a recognition of my face.

When I encounter quality writing–whether it be in a book, on-screen, or on stage–I hang on to every word enjoying not only the story they are telling but the structure of the text itself. I get goosebumps and tear up over particularly beautiful passages. If I can provoke a similar reaction in a reader of my work, I would be delighted. However, doing so requires developing great skill through practice, and practice is something I have not been doing very well. Squeezing in a few hurried sentences at the end of the day yields nothing of quality. To that end, I have ordered for myself “The Elements of Style,” which is supposedly a book that every writer should have. I want to practice with intention and hopefully find my voice and my style.

I’ve toyed around with the idea of writing about food, performances, or traveling in the past. These are all interests of mine, and they do inspire me and fill me with passion. However, they don’t inspire me to want to describe the experience itself. Rather, they inspire the imagination. For example, with music, my life experiences merge with the music’s emotions, and in my mind, alternate beginnings or ends are fabricated. So really, it’s fiction that I enjoy creating. I like writing to express myself, but I wouldn’t say I like sharing personal details much, as seen in my previous posts. Creating a story inspired, however loosely, by real-life events can be an avenue by which to find my catharsis.