Can't think of a title... Tra la la ?

I've began to notice that when I sit down to write on here, I really don't know what I'm going to churn out. Often times, unless I'm retelling a story or have had some miraculous revelation about life I feel like sharing, I just stare at the blank screen, fingers hovering above the keyboard waiting for inspiration. And I start to think, "Is this healthy? Should a writer really not know what to write?"

It's scary sometimes. Knowing that even I don't find my daily life interesting enough to document or my imagination creative enough to produce something of merit.

But then I think of all the other ways my writing does live on. Being a self-diagnosed Gaiaholic, I undoubtedly write everyday. Multiple times a day when lucky. From stories of an orphaned French girls to a mystical forest dweller and his charming sister, I know I'm creative. But these things are only as good as what I'm given. These stories are not my sole creation. I'm always working on such projects with other people. People whom I've never met before. People who give me things to respond to and I them. And I fall in love with these characters we've created, with the luxurious worlds we've built for them and I am intrigued by how much we're able to conceal from each other until the moment is right for plot twists.

So I begin to wonder if I can do this on my own. Without someone else providing a question for my character(s) to respond to or ponder. Without someone else constantly awaiting my reply in order to continue something. (Because Lord knows I abandon stories like a 15-year-old crack addict abandons babies) And I don't think I like the answer I come up with.

So is that the answer then? To change my dream from being a best-selling author to a best-selling co-author? Ew. I don't like the sound of that.

I need some initiative.

A lot of initiative.

I need an English class.

Or at least a routine outlet for writing.

I miss Christa.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.