If writing is my “job”, then I’m always working…every day…365. It doesn’t FEEL like work. They say if you find something you love to do, you’ll never work another day in your life. And I do love to write. I once tried to calculate how many words I’ve written since Mr. Virgo died. I stopped at a million. That was a long time ago.

Everything I see or do becomes “blog fodder”. An opportunity to tell a story, share an insight, or discover new places together. I love telling stories. Where I find my stretch is in writing “content”….a disconnected observation without personal viewpoints involved. It’s more like news reporting. I have been contracted to do some of this type of writing and it doesn’t come nearly as easy to me.

Back when I first attempted writing, I asked a press writer/photographer to read some of my work and give me an honest opinion. He told me it would never be publishable. I put too much of myself in my writing. In his defense, this was before blogs. But still, he was the wrong person to ask, or take and opinion from. If I hadn’t have listened to him, I might have been writing for the the last twenty years instead of the last six.

Part of this new project does use my writing style, and I am most grateful for that. I am blessed that I have a husband who knew from the get go that my writing is as much a part of me as my arms or legs. He isn’t the kind of guy that needs babysitting or entertained on an ongoing basis. He has his own interests that he pursues when I sit down at the keyboard. I am careful to keep things balanced, but when I am working on a deadline, I have to get in the zone.

Can you think of a prettier place to sit and write than on the beach? My only problem this day was the wind and my shorter haircut. The wind slowly sent my beach umbrella listing at a forty-five degree angle. And it had my hair in my face and eyes to the point of utter distraction. I packed up and moved up to the pool area. Much less wind and reflection on the screen of my iPad, but by then, my battery was low. 

At that point, my only option if I wanted to get this thing knocked out was to go back indoors. It was a good thing Mr. FixIt was ready to go inside, as well. A pitcher of ice tea was made. Some peanut butter and crackers and a bowl of berries were consumed. And my sweetheart headed off to Walmart for a loaf of bread and a jug of milk so I could get back to work without distraction.

I write. It’s what I do. I’ve said it before…I can’t NOT write. I’ve tried. Those of you who have been with me all along can surely remember the times I’ve said, “Hey! I’m going camping and I’ll be off the grid for a few days…see ya when I get back!” Yeah, not so much. I will drive to the top of a mountain to find enough cell signal to post a story. It’s a sickness. An obsession. An addiction. But it’s one I have no intention of walking away from because the benefits I have gained from my writing has far outweighed any inconvenience it has caused.

Till tomorrow…be blessed!

❤️

“Beautiful words fill my mind, as I compose this song for the king. Like the pen of a good writer my tongue is ready with a poem.”   

Psalm 45:1 GNT