Long ago, I honestly thought I was good at writing. Sucks for me though, because I suck like straws. As a kid I thought I could one day be a renowned author like J.R.R Tolkien, —although not dead like him— writing awesome fantasy novels. That’s what fantasies are for you, fantastical and not easily reachable.
Problem is, there are all these things in my head—not voices, I’m not crazy. Thoughts and ideas and pictures and hopes and dreams. That’s it though, they’re just there in my head. It’s like I can’t find myself to do anything. Ever had that feeling where you have this story in your head and you just want to write it down before it vanishes completely never to return again? (Yes, everyone has had that. Stop feeling special) Glob! Maybe I have a case of ‘stupid hands’ like Fry.
Whatever the reason, I started a blog a few years back. I AM going to write in it, no matter how crappy the style. Well, good luck to me I guess.