So, I’m having one of those lovely days where everything feels stupid. I feel like any and everything I’ve done with my writing is for nothing. I just want to stay in bed, put the covers over my head, and give up.
But life doesn’t work like that. Everything I’m doing will one day pay off. That’s what I have to remember. I can’t let a perfectly beautiful day escape me. I can’t ignore the opportunity to add more to a novel. I can’t let the chance to brainstorm a new idea go to waste. I have to keep going, especially on the days I just don’t want to. None of the words seem right, but it’s something written to be edited on another day.
So today sucks. But I’m alive. I’m drinking good coffee. I’m blessed with an opportunity to do some crappy writing. And I have a loving husband and spunky toddler waiting for me when I get home! All is well in the end. Regardless of what my feelings are trying to get me to believe.
Every person has a story worth being told. At least I think so. I often wish that I could tell every story in the world, but that is not a realistic possibility. However, it does not stop me from making up a couple of stories a day. One day I will write a story about a person’s life that will change the world. That is my ultimate dream.
I don’t remember what started my fascination with writing, but for as long as I have wanted to write about people. I would like to be a biographer, but in my own kind of way. I started with my mom’s parents and then my dad’s parents. And boy oh boy, they had some interesting stories. Those interviews took place over ten years ago and I’m glad I started with them because all of them have since passed. Both of my grandmothers kept diaries and I inherited those. I did multiple follow up interviews with all of them as well. My grandparents led very interesting lives and thankfully I got their written permission to share their stories with the world whenever I felt it was time for them to be shared.
After getting my grandparents’ stories, I moved onto my parents. It was awkward at first because I really wasn’t sure what to expect. But it wasn’t bad at all. If anything, it brought me a newfound appreciation for my parents. They still aren’t as cool as all of my grandparents, but I definitely respect them a hell of a lot more than I did before.
And that is where I stopped interviewing people. I have a long list of people who I feel are worth interviewing, but I keep coming back the my grandparents and their stories. It feels like something is there. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but I do know that right in front of me is a very good story waiting to be told. No, scratch that, in front of me are multiple stories waiting to be told!
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