Too Many Maybes

Maybe this isn't the book that I am meant to write.

Maybe the reason that it is so hard to finish is that I dont want to write it.

Maybe the words that I have already been put on paper were all that I was ever meant to write.

Maybe I should just stop writing.

I met a writer once. I have always been confused about the concept of what a writer is? Am I a writer because I love to play with words and scribble in books? Am I writer because I have 2 self published on Kindle books that hardly anyone has read?

Or is a writer someone who finally hits the big time with kindle, kobo, paperbacks, hard backs and a slot on Richard and Judy's book club?

You aren't a doctor or a lawyer until you qualify but you can be a gardener as soon as your fingers grip the soil.

But I met a writer once, she had a radio play read out, and I told her that I wanted to be a writer and she said to me 'just write'.

I wish it were that easy, To just put fingers to keyboard and let the words flow. But there is life and mess and housework and cats and all the other stuff at the moment that seems to use up the spaces in my brain that I wanted to save for writing.

There is a train of thought that there is always time for things we just choose not to allow ourselves time. We moan about how tired we are, how hard the day has been and how we just want to crash in front of the telly. We create a world where there is no time, when the truth is that the time that I sit on the sofa not watching the telly on my phone could be time that I spend with my MacBook on my lap.

So it is my decision not to do that.

So maybe I dont want to write?

So maybe I am not a writer?

Or is it just now that I am 50 and getting emails about. over 50 life insurance and funeral plans that I feel like there is no point as there is no time.

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I doubt very much that I will live to be 100 but it is possible. And, given that there was a time I felt I would kill myself or be killed before I was 30, it is just as likely that life will throw me a curve ball and I'll me writing with my brain waves at 101.

Life is about perspectives. I try to keep compassion in my mind always. I try to see both sides and try to be empathic. With everyone but myself.

I sit on the sofa in front of the telly because the words for that day have all been used up for me and I simply want to curl up and flick through eBay.

Being kind to ourselves is the one of the hardest but must important things that we need to do.

And if a moment of kindness means switching of my brain in front of Antiques Roadtrip then so be it.

But there again, maybe, I need to realise that tapping away at letters is another way I can relax, forget the world and be in my own little one that is now on the brink of war.

I got her to the castle. I got her to the throne room and she is sitting at the table with the king.

But the threat of war is true and the game needs to start.

I need to go back there and sort it out. I need to get her on her horse or feet and on her way.

Then maybe I will find the purpose to this writing stuff.

And maybe I will be a writer..

Maybe.