I love writing. I remember the moment I discovered the crazy love I had for this art. I was in the 3rd grade at R.P Connor Elementary school in Mrs. Downs class and the assignment was to write a sentence or a paragraph using our vocabulary words. I wrote a sentence, which turned into two sentences, which turned into a paragraph which turned into a page. Choose one vocabulary word, she said. Well I would take all the words and craft them into a story. I developed characters and by the end of the school year I had a notebook full of stories based on vocabulary words. At another point in elementary school, we had a poet visit our class and teach us how to write a poem. What I thought was challenging, just four or five lines, the poet thought was amazing and sent my poem to an anthology to be published. From then on I had a love for crafting poems. I could just sit down and think of a topic and when I placed pen to paper, the words flowed freely from my brain, right down to my fingertips moving the pen in a curly cursive writing poem after poem. In fifth grade I sat in Mrs. Rittendale's class stuggling in math and science. She encouraged my love of writing. I would look at the paintings she had hung up on her wall and ask if I could write a story about one for an assignment or for extra credit. She never said no. I remember staring at a painting of a Native American woman holding a baby until the words flowed. Middle school and high school were dry spells for me. I wrote a lot of poetry and I had several diaries and journals, but something was missing. I had no cheering section. My home life was a mess as my parents were heading towards divorce and my biggest supporters in previous years had been those teachers who noticed my love for the art of writing. I had great teachers in middle school and high school, but none that knew of my passion because none had assignments that called for it. There were times when a project called for an oral presentation or a book report and I would always choose reading the 500 page book and writing the 10 page book report over speaking in front of my peers. It wasn't often at that point in my schooling that an assignment was something that I enjoyed or even combining two things I enjoyed, reading and writing, so when the opportunity arose, I always took it. I started college thinking that I would be a teacher so I started taking classes in early childhood. I loved kids and babysitting had been my livelihood from high school through college, but it wasn't my passion. I lost the knowledge of my passion for writing somewhere along the way, the world got so loud and busy that my dreams disappeared from my line of vision and it wasn't until after I met my now husband and said the words out loud, “I want to be a writer,” that I remembered the long lost love that I had so long ago. I declared a major in communication with a minor in English and spent the last two semesters of my college career making up for all the years I didn't write. I took writing for children, therapeutic uses of writing, writing for television, public relations, commercial writing, any kind of writing course that was offered, I took. I was eating, sleeping, breathing writing, and I loved it! When I graduated that spring I set out to write. Many people reminded me that writing doesn't pay the bills and student loan payments would start soon, so writing should be a hobby. So I got myself a fulltime job and said I would make time to write. I didn't. Then I got married and got pregnant and said I would make time to write. I never did. When my kids were babies I said I would write when they were napping or in bed for the night; I did, but only sometimes. Then my kids all went off to school full time so I would finally have time to write. But I didn't. I had laundry and dishes and cooking and cleaning. Over those years, I wrote sometimes. I have had several pieces published. But when you love something and you only do it sometimes, it hurts. It is like having a big, gaping hole in your heart. Even though I have an awesome husband, three great kids, a house, great friends, good health, part of me still felt empty. So this week I made a very real decision. I basically gave myself an ultimatum. I would either start writing or quit. No more, I don't have time to write but I have time to watch a movie or scroll through face book. NO MORE! I made myself office hours while my kids are at school and I am going to do this. Paycheck or no paycheck, my notebook, gel pen and I will have a daily date and my hope through doing this is to bandage up the gaping hole in my heart by pursuing the dream I've had since I was a child and using the talent God gave me to write. I'm going to dedicate my writing to God, myself, my husband, and my children.