When you know you have caught a bug.
Not the insect kind, though I do with my son, nor the germ kind, this be the new ‘habit’ kind.
One started the blogging just to write something, Miss Ross’s words have echoed around my mind since High School like a squeaky fan in an air conditioning duct. She said I could, and should write a story as she enjoyed reading mine, she also said I failed to write a beginning and an end, it felt like I had just jumped to the action in the middle and I should put them in. Unfortunately copies have not been kept.
To start, writing was a chore, it was hard work, especially when people started to follow me and like the blogs, this added pressure to write well. Writing well is not something I feel I can do naturally, the structure and form of writing is lost on me, and don’t even ask what a simile, metaphor, adjective or pronoun is. These were never explained to me in a learning style I could follow.
I know oxymoron; somehow one feels like this is saying something about oneself.
Now one looks forward to writing, it’s even become a pleasure. My little note book is carried around and ideas are written down in it, often. But now I know one has caught the writing bug. More specifically the Poetry writing bug.
It is still done within the confines of therapy, but I have just finished my third in as many weeks, tweaking will follow of course. Two of the subjects were set as ‘themes’, and in the little notebook are ideas for more. One knows that the quality will not be of the highest standard, but I don’t care, I want to write another, and that is how one knows one has caught a bug.
As bugs go this has the chance of metamorphosing into something much different than what it is now.