on writing

I day dream of writing children's books. Its a dream that's stuck for a long while. For the past several months, I have been in professional level writers block. Well, more project block to be exact. I've lacked direction and passion and questioned what in the world I could or should be working on.

This past Saturday I headed for one of my favorite spots to write. Atmosphere is a warm cup of tea for writing to me and a peppermint coco can help as well. In my head, I knew where I was going, but as in the nature of writing, a new direction was taken. You see, I recently got a fabulous idea for a children's book which for now I will keep a hush about. As I sat to start writing that, a whole different voice emerged from my pen. Rather than a kids book, it was an adult book. I fought it, as I've been wrestling that for quite some time really and finally decided to give in and see where it takes me. What happened was I formulated a few sentences I fell instantly in love with, but the voice was all wrong for toddlers. It was even too old for teenagers. So, the words were for adults, scary as that may be, I loved the words and couldn't scratch them out.

I have great trepidation writing for adults. I can't possibly imagine myself having enough words in me to write a complete book, but I will give it a go, knowing perhaps this may be the next step. And in the end, I will at the least, which is far enough for me, have a wordy essay of the unbelievable adventure leading up to and being the last 18 months of the Bailey's life, A Year With Chickens.

It is evident the picture book I eagerly want to write must come caboose to the book that has been knocking on my heart. I'm opening the door and excited to entertain what's behind it. So long project block, I've got a doozy ahead of me.