My desire to write is a lot like my desire to have a baby. The idea of both have popped into my mind in the last 6 months. Ok, mommies out there, I know the comparison may seem a little inappropriate, but for me the timing and likeliness of them happening are similar.
The being a mommy thing I blame on Dr. Oz. He ran a show a while back saying that women need to take charge of our fertility. I still haven’t figured out how that works if one doesn’t have a suitable man in her life or is in the process of chasing a career, as I am, so I will put that blog off for another late night. My favorite doctor comes on NBC right before I anchor the 4, so he successfully brain washes/freaks me out every day.
Writing :: a much more pleasant topic.
I want to write. I suppose that is why I blog. It’s writing what I want :: when I want. Though, when I allow my mind to wander, I like to dream of writing crime fiction. It’s all I want to read. For those book snobs rolling your eyes right now, there is good crime fiction. It’s moody, descriptive and full of emotion. It isn’t all cheesy and I happen to like some predictability in my crime. Enough justifying, bottom line, I want to write crime fiction.
Right now, I just don’t have what it takes. I get a couple of ideas of what the crime would be but then get overwhelmed at the thought of character development and all the minor details that go into a story. For me it’s the minor, often accurate, details of a city, subject or history that my favorite authors incorporate that make reading so fascinating. It may be fiction, but you are still gaining something. If all the details weren’t as specific or descriptive I don’t think I would escape into a book as I do.
I think my goal will be that I will write a novel when I retire. I suppose retirement may eventually also be a matter of fiction, but it’s a story I choose to believe for now. Here’s to dreams!!