We’re one-third of the way through NaBloPoMo already! Yay, fellow bloggers! Way to go!
Today’s prompt asks, “What is your secret (or not-so-secret) passion?”
One of my life-long passions has been secret to other people, I suppose, because until the past few years, not many knew that I’ve always wanted to be a writer.
I’m a person of simple tastes, and I’m really not that interested in a lot of things that our culture deems necessary or entertaining.
I do have lots of interests, though, most of them pertaining to what I would call my top five passions: my faith in God, my family, nature, food and…writing. Those things pretty much make up my life.
I don’t care about owning a lot of things. I’m not very fashion conscious, and the thoughts of more than two or three shopping trips a year pretty much makes me cringe. I mean, I go to the grocery more often than that, but I don’t shop for the fun of it.
I don’t really care what kind of car I drive, as long as it gets me where I’m going. I don’t like shiny new matched furniture sets. I like scaly paint and rust on stuff.
Yeah, I know I’m pretty weird.
I would say I’m pretty much equally passionate about all of my passions, although my writing has been the slowest to become visible.
I’ve always been a reader. Many times when I’d finish reading something, I’d think, I wish I could write something like that. I wish I could touch people’s hearts and change their minds. I wish I could tell entertaining stories.
I used to think I’d like to go to college and major in English. That sounds like a pretty worthless thing to do if you don’t intend to teach—unless you want to be a better writer.
Which I did.
So, off I went to college at the age of forty-something. My last semester, our two daughters and I were all college students at the same time.
Yeah, I know that’s pretty weird.
But secret passions often lead us to do weird stuff.
And I’m glad I did it. I’m surer than ever that I’m a writer. That’s want I want to be, and that’s who I am.
Some folks feel the need to make music, some to paint or photograph images. I feel the need to write.
Many don’t understand this about me. To some it must seem like a waste of time to sit around and think on paper.
Why don’t you quit your dreaming and get a real job? I imagine that’s what people must think.
Maybe folks don’t ever think that. I’ll bet most simply don’t give a hoot, but I’ll have to admit I ask myself that question pretty often. Then I go write.
I write in my journal, and I write newspaper features and columns, and I post blogs daily during National Blog Posting Month, which I share with my friends on facebook. Sometimes I’ll attempt a poem or a short story.
Every now and then, people take pity on me and read my stuff.
Whether or not I have an audience, I’ve got to be a writer, though. I feel like I haven’t really lived life until I’ve processed it on paper.
That’s just me.
Maybe that’s pretty weird, but that’s my secret passion.