Daydreams of a Would-be Writer

To date, I have had no more than one poem published (and the one I did have published was in a collection of thousands of aspiring poets and I had to buy the book). I believe this barely-published state of being is partly due to the fact that I have not been very good at seeking out places to present my work. I am still struggling with whether this is solely because I am afraid of rejection or if I am also truly overwhelmed at the sheer enormity of the task of wading through all the sketchy people/publications/companies to find the reputable ones. It is my life's dream to publish a book one day. I have dreamed for it as long as I can remember. From the age of six or seven, I wrote stories and bound them into books. I have actually started a novel, which I work on only periodically when I can find the time and inspiration. My mind is so cluttered these days with everything else that is required of me that it is hard, even when time allows, to just sit down and pick up writing where I left off. The story reveals itself to me bit by bit all the time and I have a million notes scrawled on used napkins and bits of paper torn from the corners of whatever was handy when inspiration struck. Old envelopes are another convenient drawing board and I have to clear them out of the car and my purse on a regular basis (my husband always gets annoyed at "all that trash" in the cup holders). I am finally getting more organized and catagorizing them in my iPad so I don't have to sift through all the bits and pieces in such a random fashion any longer. Hooray for technology! I know I have a story to tell and I think it will be a good one. Maybe not for everyone, but a good one for a lot of people. There is darkness in all of us. Some choose not to believe that. Some willfully ignore it. Some embrace it and hurt others. Some simply allow it to flow out of them onto the page for the entertainment of those who aren't afraid to poke the beast once in a while (in a relatively comfy place and from a safe distance). I'm not sure where my darkness originated and I really don't care. I write because it makes me feel alive. I write whatever flows out. I write because it purges the darkness from my soul and when I emerge from that imaginary place, I feel lighter, I feel happy. I write because I cannot do otherwise.