The writer in me

I have spent so much of my time worrying about the things around. The such things that I really honest have little to no control over. These things have all distracted me from my true vision of what I want to do with my life. I want to write. The feeling of opening a book with my name on the cover, my words on the pages of print,for all to enjoy. I want to see my pen name (that has grown through the ages) on the cover of a novel. Author: Hope L. Brock. It is all I have wanted for as long as I can remember. I even found some books that I wrote when I was seven years old (same age as my son). I wonder if I will ever get there. I never seem to finish anything. I have been publishing articles on Associated Content and have started blogs. I love words and phrases that make you think. Hence, my quote blog. I just wonder if I will ever feel the heaviness of a book that I have wrote on my arms. The heaviness of the story inside of me weighs on my shoulder much heavier then any novel I could ever write. I cry from the inside longing for the writer inside of me to come out. I wish that life did not run so much on money. If I could live life through dreams I would be rich.

As little kids, we are told that we should find something we love to do and do that for the rest of our lives. However, this advice has become outdated. In today's economy, you have to take what is given to you and be happy with that. I just don't understand. I feel as if I live the life of a split personality. There is the sensible responsible outer shell, while a writer is screaming from within. Writing has always been my true love, and I look at my small accomplishments I have made in twenty years of writing and wonder why I am not further into this career path. The books I found, the poetry journals on my book shelf, and the third place Illinois Young Author ribbon I own all give testament as to how long this fire has been burning. Almost three years ago, I had my pen name tattooed on my ankle. I long to have my name in print with my thoughts and stories on someone else's  bookshelf.

feeling blocked and pressured

So I have been absentmindly spending money from my article account that is not really there yet. It could be there in a few days if I get creative writing great articles. However, with the pressure, I have a severe case of writers block. Everything I think of seems not good enough. I don't know what to write about. I really wish I had a desk and an office I could go to. Typing from the couch is very diffcult. I really need a spot I can go to without distractions. I love writing but not that I am writing to abstain my absentminded spending of money I feel a lot more pressure. I don't like to write when I am pressured. I can't seem to get creative. However, one of the biggest advice about writing is to keep doing it.

So I am.

I sit here on my couch (did I mention how hard it is to type from the couch) just typing away about nothingness. Although, I am stressed about not getting the money I need I have to say that I am never happier as to when I throw all worries to the wind and treat myself to a special treat everyday. Perhaps money is the secret to my depression. However, if that is the case then I really would not need anti-depression pills. I don't understand what is going on with me really...hmmm....anyway ...typing is what I am doing. Typing...typing...nothing is coming to me and I know I have to end my post at some point. I guess I will just move on.

My first blog

Why am I blogging? It could be that I am a parent of a high-functioning disabled child, parenting through various mental illnesses or because I want to be a published author someday. All of these are reasons why I started my blog. They are presented their own set of problems. I was told to pick a niche, but I think they have all been done. It is also hard for me to keep up with all of the projects I have started. If you take a good look at my house you can tell that my depression sometimes cripples me from doing anything I start. My house is a mess, I am continuing stepping over trash. This is just because I am too depressed or overwhelmed to start the cleaning process. My son has ADHD, Asperger's (unoffical diagnosis as of late), physical limitations (two surgeries on his ankle joints), and impluse control issues. I suffer from depression, anxiety and conversion disorder. I have started to write articles for Associated Content. I have always wanted to be a writer. However, I (once again) can not seem to finish anything I start. I have now developed a personal goal of having something published, or at least queries sent to agents, by the time I am thirty years old. I am currently twenty seven. We will see what happens.