I started writing by accident. I have commented before that I loved American Literature and English in high school. I had a wonderful teacher in both subjects who encouraged me with every assignment to do something more with my writing. If I ever publish she will be mentioned in my acknowledgements.

Writing has changed my life. I’m not the same person I was three years ago. I’m more confident, not only as a writer, but as a person. Discovering I could write was like polishing a diamond in the rough. With every word I write, I learn more. Every day I write I am a little more improved than the day before. I’ll admit, before I started writing, I didn’t use my brain to create anything. The only creative aspect of my life involved gardening. Writing opened up a new world for me, it allowed me to express myself, and at the time, I was starving for an outlet.

Writing empowers me. It makes me believe that I can do something beyond my day job; it serves as my light at the end of the tunnel.

More often times than not my writing relieves stress. I can vent frustration, sexual tension, and sadness through my characters. Writing serves as therapy for my soul.

Writing also opens new doors for me. I’ve met other writers, and made many lifetime friends. I’ve found critique and blog partners, and learned more than I ever thought possible about the kind of writer I can be with hard work and determination.

Writing gives me something to call my own. It’s a source of pleasure for me that I create without any help from an outside source. It’s a solo act, in which I direct, write and star.

In my day career I depend on a department director to hand down my orders, when I slip into my desk chair at home I am the CEO in charge. I make and execute the rules, and most of the time I do so in my pajamas.

Writing makes me more aware as a reader. I appreciate books more. My taste in reading has changed since I’ve become a writer. Some authors I appreciate even more and some I see in a whole new light. I remember the first book I read after I started writing. I dissected it like a pig in an anatomy class. Reading is one of the most beneficial resources I have as a writer.

I view the world through a writer’s eyes. I look at everyday life as a potential for a scene in a story. I listen to conversations. I watch people and their gestures, emotions, and reactions. I file observations of fashion, hairstyles, and automobiles in a mental file for later reference. The check out girl at Wal-Mart may be the next great heroine in my WIP.

So maybe I’m grasping for straws, but its Friday, so go with it.