Words

            Writing has always been my first love. In school I was l always ready to write something—story, book report, current events report, extra credit report to make up for not doing math homework. I’ve always enjoyed writing.

As a young teen, like many that age, there were times I felt I wasn’t being treated well and wanted to run away. Even at that age, I knew if I ran away, I would end up back home, having to face my father, and things would be much worse than when I left. Instead, I wrote my first story. It was about a kid who ran away. He had all kinds of fun and adventures of the kind I would have liked. He hiked through forests, floated down rivers, raced around on go-karts. After a while, the urge to run away would fade and the notebook would be tucked away into the desk. When the urge to flee returned, out came the notebook and the story continued.

Since then, I have written thousands of pages. I have a rough first draft completed of a young adult fantasy fiction novel, as well as many pages of notes for eight or nine more stories in the series. I also have an almost completed first draft of a historical fiction/romance, along with many pages of notes for half a dozen more stories in that series. I have pages and pages just of ideas for stories—plot ideas, character descriptions, snippets of conversation, bad jokes, good comebacks, sad tales, life experiences, etc. All of these either have sparked—or I expect will spark—a storyline. I figure I’ll have to live to around 250 years old just to write the stories I have ideas for right now. And the more I write, the more ideas come to me. I can’t even imagine what writer’s block is like.

Unfortunately, I’ve never done anything with all that writing. The whole notion of security and practicality (both of which are other words for fear), that need for a job, a weekly paycheck, kept me from pursuing writing. Plus, I lacked the confidence when I was younger to try and make something of my writing. I didn’t believe in myself, that I could write something worthwhile, or that anyone would want to publish my writing. When you don’t believe in yourself, you are easily distracted and things like work—the job—can become an excuse to not have time to write.

There are many platforms now available to publish. Add to that a little more confidence, a little less concern about what others think, and a strong desire to speak my piece, and my time has come. So, for the time being, you’re stuck with me. That is, if you keep reading this blog. And if something doesn’t distract me—oh, look, there goes a squirrel.

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