On the last post I wrote, I received some very good advice.  I really, truly love to write.  It is an outlet that helps express emotions that are almost impossible to speak.  Who would talk like some of the things you read in the books? Not many people.  But it is wonderful to read the words that others dream and create.  That is what I am hoping to do, be that writer that others see as a story teller.  A writer who can take you from the beginning of a scene to the end with you hanging on to every word just to feel the emotion that is written.

So I took the advice.  The advice to just write about anything, everything.  I kept sitting at my desk, in front of my laptop, waiting for inspiration to hit me.  While I sat, I looked around my office and then I saw what has always been there.  A picture.  A simple picture with simple strokes of color.  But the picture started to speak, it started to tell me a story.  A story that not many people will sit quietly enough to hear.  But I heard it because the inspiration in my head was silent at the moment.  That’s when I started to write.  To write the words the picture told me.  I wrote 3 paragraphs, the beginning of a story that is beautiful and tragic. 

Once I finished with what the picture wanted to say for the time being, I read it out loud to my mother in law.  And if you knew my mother in law, she doesn’t give compliments that are undeserving.  So when she told me that she would read that book (she DOES NOT read–laugh–), I was ecstatic.  Of course it made me want to write more, but the picture has stayed silent.  I am hoping it finishes telling me it’s secrets because I am ready to listen to its’ quiet voice.