I am an aspiring authoress. I have been since middle school when my friends and I wrote stories on notebooks and passed them between us throughout the school day. I always knew that my friends had a lot more talent and ability but I figured that at least my desire would make up for it.
I kept writing.
It's been 16 years since I was that middle school girl, passing notebooks and pouring my heart into made up characters and plotlines. I still keep those notebooks in a box and I pull them out every so often as a reminder of the emotions I put into those stories and as a reminder of the dream of becoming a real authoress.
Writing is not easy for me. Someone - William Faulkner - once said that a writer has to write because they can't not write. I am that type of writer. I don't write because I have talent and wonderful ideas that come spewing off the page. I write because to not write hurts. I write because my soul won't let me do anything else until I've expressed something in words.
The result of all of my writing though is this: a dozen unfinished short stories, three unfinished novels, and a dozen poems. I pull out the bits of novels for bedtime stories to read to friends who are stressed or sick. I pull out the short stories on those nights when the writing demon has gotten me and I think that I must surely finish something. None of it is brilliant - in my nicest moments, they are like old friends who bring a smile to my face of good memories and in my most critical moments, they are raw and ugly brainchildren, proof of my limited ability.
I never finish anything. I'm starting to wonder if I ever will.
However, in all of this, I keep writing. Because I must.