The Obsession of Writing

I've never been a talkative person. When I was younger, talking to someone was about as painful to me as a root canal and it's not much better now. I get all flustered and my face flushes pink. I start to get spoltchy and my brain turns to mush. It's frustrating to feel that feeling of my throat swelling closed and I just have to nod, put my head down and walk away. I say this because I was watching my DH today while he was working and was amazed at his ability to just talk to anyone. He literally took someone just walking by and had a thirty minute conversation with a stranger. A comfortable conversation too, like they'd known each other for years. When the guy walked away from the DH, he smiled and waved and the DH turned to me and said, "I have a problem. It's a disease." Then he smiled and I turned into blubering mush like I do so often.

Which got me to wondering- Is the DH's gift of gab much like my love for voicing myself through writing?

The DH and I are completely opposite of each other. It fascinating to me to think of all the things we don't have in common and that we're perfectly happy together. It annoys him that I spend so much time logged on the computer. At first I kept my writing hidden from him, worried that he would think me more of a nerd than he already knows I am; but then he caught me one night before I could shut down the computer when he came home from work. Then we had the writing conversation. "I'm only doing it for fun. I'm bored while you're at work." He shook his head and I'm sure didn't think anything of it.

Only problem was, it wasn't just for fun for me. Writing has turned into an obsession for me. In just a little over a year, I turned from a bookaholic to a writeraholic. I don't imagine that anything will ever come from it, but there's that tiny little fire in my heart that just keeps on living.

Is there anything that you keep secret, just so that you have something for yourself? Something that makes you happy to do? Like reading is my second favorite passion. I leave books everywhere so that at any given moment, I can pick up a book and read a few paragraphs. Was there a pivotal moment when you came out about your writing to a loved one, and you were so excited only to find out they weren't? Does it or will it stop you from doing what you love?