By Cheryl Rushing

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I’ve spent a lot of time the past several years thinking that, as a writer, I had to write a book.  So I’ve started books.  Many of them.  I’ve signed up for NaNoWriMo and failed miserably. 

All I’ve gotten for my trouble has been a large pile of half-finished manuscripts (ok, perhaps a jump drive full of them) and a lot of frustration.  When I’ve explored the publishing process, it just seems overwhelming.

I’ve watched friends and fellow writers get published.  Lauren Conrad has been published, for Pete’s sake!

And all the while, I’ve just been paralyzed by fear.

A couple of years ago I took a class about writing, and I got interested in magazine writing.  It seemed to be a bit easier than novel writing, plus I could probably finish a magazine article, right?

Thanks to a friend who is mentoring me, I’ve got an idea on how to get my foot in the door with magazine writing.  I’ve been compiling a list of articles I’d like to write, and I’ll be looking for places to get them published in the next month or so.

Write what you know… so I am!

This past weekend I had some inspiration on a novel I had started writing this past spring.  I wrote on that for a bit, then noticed in the same folder some documents from a novel I had started in 2008.

I spent Sunday morning reading what I had written in 2008, and falling in love with the characters and the story all over again.  I’ve got some ideas for that, and I’m looking forward to putting it all together.

I might just end up writing a book someday after all.

A few years ago a friend recommended that I read the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon.  I picked up the first book (Outlander) from the library, and was unable to get through the first chapter.  I was bored with it.

My friend was aghast that I was not as enthralled as she was by the series.  I was at a local bookstore about a year later and bought Outlander from the used section, then found it dusty, with the receipt still in it, two years later.

I slogged through the first several chapters until it got good, but even then I only wanted to finish it because I’d already invested so much time in the characters.  Normally a 2 book a week girl, this one took me nearly a month to finish.

For some reason I bought the second in the series, Dragonfly in Amber.  Despite a strong start, it is still taking me a month to read this one, and no matter how it ends I will not be finishing the series.

It’s an example, in my opinion, of how I do NOT want to write, and not something I want to read.  No offense meant to Diana Gabaldon, she’s just not my style.  Maybe I’m missing something?  She’s made a lot of money and is quite popular, so she must be doing something right.

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Ever year, my female relatives and Iget up in the wee hours of Black Friday, fight our way through the crowds to get deals, and then finish our morning at 8 a.m. at Chick-Fil-A for breakfast.  While there, I get my annual Cow Calendar.  It’s tradition.

This year, we started talking about Black Friday on the day I arrived, but on Thanksgiving Day we combed through the sale ads and decided there was nothing that was going to make us (1) get up that early and (2) part with our hard earned cash.

I didn’t even think about the calendar again until Sunday, when the restaurant is not open.  This is when I always crave Chick-Fil-A: Sundays.

This past weekend I had to work, which necessitated a trip in town on Saturday.  I decided to stop by the restaurant and take advantage of a deal: $20 in Chick-Fil-A gift cards means a free calendar.  I had a gift card that needed reloading, so I got that, a peppermint chocolate chip shake, and my free calendar.

This year’s calendar?  Great Works of Cow Literature.

Mooby Dick.  Sir Arthur Conan Broyle.  I love it!

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First I got busy, and then I got distracted.

Somehow I found myself, the week of Thanksgiving, planning my crops in Farmville and Farm Town around my travel schedule.  I even found moments while in a house filled with family, to make sure nothing withered on the vine.

Nothing virtual, anyway.

I’ve been letting little piddly things get in the way of real life, so I decided to close out the farms and do something productive.

Yesterday I woke up really early (husband was snoring!) and came in to the computer, and realized I had no crops to harvest, so I checked e-mail and then went back to bed.  Last night I was laughing while telling my husband the story, and said “I don’t have anything to do now!”

And he said “You could write.”

Ouch.  Yeah, I guess I could, couln