There’s a feeling pulling on my chest, my soul, guiding me to write; an invisible hand tugs on my insides, and I stumble forward, not knowing where I am being led. The hand is my own, pulling deep from within me towards my goal of writing meaningful stories for others who might need their characters. But I also need to write them for the younger version of myself, a kid impacted so significantly by the stories of other writers.
And yet, even now, I’m lost, not knowing what stories I need to grip me, even at the age of 24. With this blog, Quivering Lobsters, I hope to discover those stories and polish them for others to see. In turn, I hope those people trust my creativity based on my merit, and let me create more and more stories.
The story I need is my own. I am writing it, demanding the plot steer in my favor though sheer commitment and heart. Because I guide myself forward now, gripping my insides, my heart, and stumble onwards.
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