One year ago I began blogging. I find enjoyment in writing. Stringing words together and stretching my mind brings me satisfaction. I am currently working on a book about a thirteen year old homeless kid. The fictional journey he is on is his and does not belong to anyone else.
I have noticed that life has damaged my creativity. I struggle more often than not, with my ability to generate fresh thoughts. I don’t know if others struggle in such a way. Maybe they do since many movies are regenerated versions of other movies or stories.
I see beauty in many things and would love to draw and paint my way back to my old self. I have been working on my “studio”. A small bedroom I have designated as a place to create. Currently it is a disaster. But I am planning it and buying organization pieces to get myself to a space where I can create beautiful things.
I can draw, paint, crochet, sew, and make crafts. I also want the space to write on my book. It is quiet and has good light. I get closer every day to the idea I have for the space. Maybe one day it will be a haven of creativity.