Writing to me is…
by Diana Murdock
As human beings, we have an inherent need to be heard, so we consistently express ourselves in some manner. Some people accomplish this through song, others through dance. Some through specific tasks, others through words. That need drives us to do whatever accomplishes the end result – the expression of our soul. Whether or not anyone listens is irrelevant, though privately we hope that someone will.
My boundaries were very well-defined by my mother, but as a child I still felt invisible, as if nothing I said mattered or was important enough to be heard. Those years were lonely with my reflection in the mirror as my only ally. So I turned to writing. I gave voice to me, my “inner child,” who felt completely overlooked. I heard every word, every emotion that my heart had held. And not only did I hear, but I listened.
Those words were tucked away from prying eyes for many, many years. Like mortar, those poems and stories that consisted of moments of pain, hurt, elation, and simple joy, plugged the holes and bridged the gap between those early years and the day I moved out of my parents’ home to be on my own.
For years following that, my writing ebbed as my need to be heard was drowned by too much fun and too many beers, but when the euphoria wore off, the gnawing hunger to be heard once again rose within me. Writing, to me, was like taking a deep breath of clean air that washed away dark energy that, unbeknownst to me, had been pooling in the recesses of my soul.
And so I write, but this time around, though I still hope to be heard, I hope even more to entertain. I hope to pull you into a world so vastly different - or so frighteningly similar - that you walk away wondering… Wow, what if?
MAKE SURE TO CHECK OUT
AVAILABLE ON KINDLE AND PAPERBACK
Buy Now @ Amazon Kindle
Genre - Children's Fiction
Rating - PG13
More details about the book