From My Perspective

Waking up this morning, I feel grateful, yet dizzy. Today is a day of firsts. This is my first day of working from home as a writer. A few days ago, I prepared for this day by creating a morning routine and an evening routine. I had researched how different authors stayed on track. I discovered that everyone has their own opinion on whether or not one should have a schedule or just write when they felt like it. I love making schedules and lists about literally everything, so I decided it would be best if I made myself a daily routine. I also know that at times I get distracted or lose motivation to do anything productive, so I figure having a schedule of sorts would be beneficial. I am not actually using a very strict schedule, with times of when I should do things, because I want to enjoy the freedom of working from home. I am basically just using a to-do list of sorts. I will try this out for a while and see how it works. I would be very interested to hear how you schedule out your d

A cacophony of traffic noises suddenly filled the air and I jerked awake. The touch of the woman's hand on my arm lingered. It was only a dream. A few seconds passed before I could remember where I was. I had recognized her. She was the woman that had been haunting my dreams for the past few months. Always smiling that sinister smirk, she would eerily float towards me, her hair moving on a faint breeze that I could not feel on my skin. Her lips moved, trying to give me a message that I knew I needed to hear. I was afraid of her but was drawn to her in desperation. I felt like I was meeting her for a purpose. She needed my help but I didn't know what I could possibly do for her. Tonight was the first time she was close enough to touch me. Her skin was wet and clammy, like she had been under water for centuries. It sent a chill that ran through my veins. It traveled up my arm until it reached my heart and startled me awake. I grabbed the blankets around me to try to rid myself

She looked to the right and saw that the fire was dwindling. The drizzle had made it difficult to find much dry wood but she had no choice but to search for more. She would freeze without the warmth of the fire. She removed herself from the safety of the light and stumbled out deeper into the woods. Picking up twigs and feeling for any dampness, she slowly gathered up a small collection of hopeful kindling. As she turned toward her makeshift campsite, she heard what she thought was footsteps coming from behind her. She spun around quickly, dropping a few of the precious sticks. The sound ceased immediately. She told herself it was all in her head and took a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart. With trembling fingers, she picked up her bundle and quickly set back to the task of reviving her small fire. As she worked, she recalled the words of her father to her retreating back. "You'll be back, begging for mercy, just like your mother did," he predicted. "But the

The most beautiful thing I have accomplished in my life is my marriage. I never really saw myself as someone that would settle down into a marriage. In fact, I believe I was afraid of it. My parents divorced after at least fifteen years of being together. I didn't want to have to go through that. I saw how it tore my mother apart. I figured that if I never got married, I wouldn't ever have to face the possibility of that pain. I was promiscuous to say the least, jumping from relationship to relationship. Starting at an early age, I always searched for "love in the wrong places". In fact, I had a counselor tell me when I was a teenager that my behavior was because my father left and I was trying to fill a void. Maybe the counselor was right, but I am not sure I like to blame others for my actions. I knew what I was doing. Besides, my mother always called me "boy crazy". I was one of those kids who had a "boyfriend" in kindergarten. But in each

I would like to become a successful writer. I don't necessarily mean success as in fame and fortune. Although, seeing my novel on the big screen would be out of this world! But no, I don't really want to have to do deal with some agency telling me where to go, who to meet, nor what to write. That comes from within. My writing will be from the heart only. I don't want someone breathing down my neck, trying to tell me when I need to get something done. That's the whole point of working from home and being my own boss. I am tough enough on myself as it is. I want my life to be pressure-free. My goals are to have a thriving blog where I will share my personal reflections on random topics. I plan to be completely honest and not just type things that I think other people will want to hear. I want to be real. My second goal is to write novels. I am currently working on one that has great potential. I hope to make a living doing something that I love in the comfort of my home

I have worked at my current job in the food industry for about five years. I have worked this kind of job for about twenty years. I did work in another field for about five years after I finished college, but was unhappy in that field. Perhaps, my unhappiness was a result of following a dream set forth by my mother. She wished that I follow in her footsteps because she believed it to be the most successful path. I soon found out that office work was not for me. Not the work itself, per say, but the environment. I worked with stuffy, snotty women that made you feel beneath them at any chance they got. Definitely not my place. The place where I currently work has been like my home away from home. I do consider my coworkers as my friends. When I started there, I was a different person. I was on drugs. I lived day to day as if I had not a care in the world. I didn't, at the time. I didn't care about anyone else, nor did I care for myself. Finally, I met my husband. He actually wor