So, I joined a writing group. Why? Because that itch, that need to be creative, that gnawing sensation of what I’ve not yet done, of where I’ve not yet gone, of who I’ve not yet been was clawing its way out of my skin and I was left with no other choice. So, I joined a writing group to help me help me.
I sat, giving eager attention, as the women seated around the small table took turns sharing their writings. A devotional. An inspirational blog. A self-help book. A memoir. Words written to help others. Beautiful stories created to inspire.
… Thinking and processing…
… I have “nothing” to share…
… Three days later… still thinking… and processing… and “nothing” to share
Enter The Civil Wars‘ Poison and Wine on my Spotify with the moment of truth.
I just want to write love stories. Fantastical, romantic fiction about the human condition in and out of relationships. I want to write about hearts meeting and breaking and mending. About longingly waiting and painfully letting go. About expectant butterflies and unceasing tears. Even if that doesn’t seem very… inspiring, it is what’s moving me.
Here’s a list (in no particular order) of what else is moving me:
Lisa Hannigan “I Don’t Know“
Paramore “Still Into You”
Rictor “Till the End”
The Civil Wars “Dust to Dust” and “To Whom it may Concern” and “Falling”