Make me rich

It always no matter what seems like it has been such a long time since I have written, even though it has been only been maybe a day.

I hear myself getting taught the same lesson, over and over in life. Recently I have been told “just write.”

as in whatever comes to mind just write, and then later on chisel it away get the marble down to the masterpiece that you know is inside.

Its wield staring at a piece of paper that is blank and then after a few spaced out moments the page is filled with words that you didn’t know you had.

It seems like at where I work there is a story waiting to be told, but I never have the time to sit down and watch it. I am being told solid advice as far as steps to further my writing. Things I always knew I needed to do regardless, but hearing them come from a respected person, it is like concrete weight to the feelings that already press heavy in your heart.

If I can just get a camera again, I have such plans. This writing thing is harder than I thought, yet it seems so easy. I work at a bookstore and I know one should not judge a book by its cover, but still I see such garbage on the shelves and I know that I can write better stories than what I am looking at. Maybe its jealousy, and I am sure a bit of it is, its just a case of someone having something that I want.

Maybe if I just sit back and let the stories flow. I remember a piece of advice given to me, to help, and I want to practice it. “Tell the same thing first in one sentence, then in one paragraph, and then finally in one page.”

So okay, if it helps and enriches me as an artist, I am down.