Fizzled out?

Fizzled out? NOPE. Just Chuck Testa.

Well, recently it seems that not as many people have been discovering or reading my blog. But this isn’t gonna be a whining post begging people to start commenting and reading and following.

Throughout my comparably short life, I’ve grown up as a writer, very slightly each year. I used to be terrified to share my work. Some of my work I still won’t share, but I’m less afraid now. In addition, I welcome criticism, because there are only two things it can really do to me: it can make me a better writer or make me laugh because I don’t think they are wrong-I know they are wrong.

It’s only criticism, and just like in everything else in reality, people aren’t always going to agree with you or like what you do.  But that’s a huge part of being a writer, being able to continue to write…and write…and write, even if no one likes it. Writers have to have a certain degree of confidence in themselves in order to make it, and lately I’ve been trying to soak up as much confidence as I can get. I’ve come to believe that a true writer writes simply for the joy of it, and no one should lose touch with that.

On a completely unrelated note, I’m about to embark in NaNoWriMo Month, which is National Novel Writing Month, in which participants pledge to try to write an entire novel (i forget the word minimum) within the month of November. This is great for me because I never have the motivation to write most of my stories, and now I have some.

So wish me luck, and Happy Halloween to anyone out there reading this. =D


Thoughts-A Poem

This is a really old poem, and it’s not one of my favorites, but it’s about an experience I often have, so I’ll share it anyway.


I close my eyes
to fall asleep
And what do ya know?
I start to think

The words twist
Around and around
And I cant go to sleep
Though I hear no sound

Ideas, mostly
And childish dreams
Fill my head like a pillow
Bursting from the seams

Dreams of things Id like
To happen, and I hope
That they could come true,
Though I know they wont

I think about how unfair
Life can sometimes be
And I thank god for all the gifts
I can and cant see

I wonder if Ill ever figure
All this madness out
I hate not understanding
What life is all about

But amid all these thoughts
And the pressures by which Im bound
I get poetic verses stuck in there
And here I write them down