Did you ever fall out of your writing habits? If so, how were you able to get back to it?
Writing was (and it breaks my heart to write « was »…!) not only a habit, but sort of a lifestyle. And despite all the excellent advice on writing you and I can find out there (heck, I posted a couple of these years ago!!!), despite the famous waking up at 5 am, despite that little notebook I keep beside me at all times…
Something is lost.
Overwhelming. All seems to be.
Many dozens of books are published every day, everywhere.
Many dozens of times this summer, the blue sky was grey with smoke, and the sun was red.
Many, many times in the past months – months slowly becoming years-, I found myself in front of this screen, looking for the words to tell stories, to share through them hope, laughter, excitement, drama, and dreams.
In vain.
Then, I heard her voice.
Sunday Radio
An 80-year-old artist explaining how, since she was a kid, her entire being was drawn to drawing, to playing music, to making movies and telling stories.
Her mother bashed and shamed her dreams when she was 9 or 10, telling her she had no talents. Nearly two decades after, the artist was able to move beyond her mother’s shadow to finally embrace what was burning in her : the desire to create, to make art, to tell stories.
This week, this 80-year-old artist, Paule Baillargeon, will see her first book published.
The book highlights her career through her artwork, which she continues to do, even though she lost her independence due to illness, and now lives in a house dedicated to helping seniors who have lost their autonomy.
A long radio interview, which I listened to without doing a billion little other things.
Something was there, in her voice, her will, her strength.
That something I lost, many, many months ago…
Changing Back to Oneself
That something. Where was it anyway?
Well, that something never went far. It was simply hiding, keeping safe.
Hiding from a toxic manager’s influence, financial insecurity, and anxiety. For two years.
Not anymore.
I will not let those noises bash, shame or silence my dreams.
Never again.
Something is found.
Sparkling Stories
Telling stories always made me feel like something was sparkling inside my soul.
Something happy, dancing in my heart.
I’m gonna work less hours. I’m gonna rest. And I’m gonna start writing stories again.
No plan yet. No schedule.
A promise, however… Write every day, for the pure joy of feeling the sparkles shine again.
Thanks for being here, on the long road to achieving a dream: write novels full-time to make people laugh and dream.
Until next time, take care of yourselves.
Marie Alice Writes & Reads 