Pieces of the Past

I have been a writer since I was young and if you ask those who have known me for a number of years they will tell you it is true. I wrote a number of novels starting with my first one at age 13. The story was long winded and probably not the best but it was my first handwritten novel. After completing that one there were at least another 6 completed works. There were also a number of unfinished ideas that sat in a notebook. Many of those stories have been lost forever, not due to teenage years but as the ultimate act of sacrifice for someone who didn't really need it.
Many of the stories remain in my head and may one day be re-written. It's like having a movie in your head that no one has ever seen. You have to describe it in detail for everyone else to understand what it is you see. I can't say that I am some great writer or have amazing talent. I just know that I have had it in me since I was younger. It was not until I was 23 years old that I finally sat down and put one of them into the computer and did something with it. Even then the reason I did it was to give it as a gift to my sister who always was willing to read what I had to write. She is the reason that I continued to write many of my stories. When writers block would kick in I would pass her the notebook and she would send it back insisting on more.
There are only a few notebooks that I have left and I was fortunate to put one of my stories on the computer, print out a copy and put it in a binder. That binder is over 10 years old, I know this because I sat on a plane to Oregon when I was 16 years old reading it again. It was a crude work done by a teenager but the story touches my heart today.
I would tell you all the story but then no one would read the book. I don't what inspired me to write when I was younger. I can't say that I knew what was going to happen in my life but this story mirrors some of my life. When most girls are young they dream of happily ever after and everything will be just fine. They write of stories where the worst thing is that someone got mad at them. This story has nearly brought me to tears. My depth of understanding was not large at the time I wrote it and I have re-worded and corrected some of it but the general plot is what amazes me. Where did it come from? Why did I write these things? Was it a vision I had in my young life? Was this idea that there had to be tragedy create it in my life?
I don't really have an answer for any of it and I don't suppose I ever will. I just know that the way I wrote when I was younger surprises me. I read it as an adult and I did not expect the story to be so involved; the characters are torn, the pain real, the joy true and I don't know how. I don't mean to say that I am some prodigy but I think I have realized that it is a gift. It is not of myself but from God and I have not been using it like I should.
From the time I was 13 to 17 I could be found with a pen and paper, always writing. I turned 18 and my life changed and so did my writing. It slowed and then it stopped completely. I have not finished a novel since I was 17. I have not even attempted more than a couple chapters. It is not that I don't want to write, I do. I love to sit and type and hear the click-clack of the keyboard under my fingers. I love to feel the pen in my hand and see words dance on the page. It has been hard to get back the inspiration I once had. The stories I wrote of love, romance and mystery when I was younger do not hold the same pull.
The magic of romance is not like it used to be, it is scarred by pain. I have not totally healed from the pain so how can I write of it for others. I write here and there but it is not like it used to be. I don't think it ever will be. I have a whole new perspective now and one that can change lives. If there is one thing I have learned, regardless of the pain I feel now there is hope.