Always a Writer

I have always been a writer, since I was about eight years old. For most of my life I thought writing was just something I did, like breathing or drinking a Coke, something necessary to life, but something that only affected me. Then as time went on, I started offering my stories to friends to read. This was about the 7th and 8th grade…God help them, because the stuff was pure dreck. (Tammy, how did you stand it?) But they encouraged me…two of them are still first readers of mine today. (Thanks Laura and LaDonna!) AndI kept writing.

It didn’t occur to me to try and sell any of it until about 10 years ago. It’s two books later, and I’m still writing. As far as I know, I will keep writing for the rest of my life. This story is no surprise to my fellow writers who may be reading this. You are on the same path. You write because you have to. You know what I mean.

Before I knew how to read, I asked for a typewriter. For my fourth birthday, I got one. A bright, sunny yellow typewriter. I remember wondering why all the letters were out of order. I banged away on that thing for years until I broke it, whether there was paper in it or not, long before I learned to tell stories of my own. I guess I was practicing.

I’ve been through another typewriter since then, and I’ve graduated to a lap top, but I still love the sound of my fingers hitting the keys when I work. I have a feeling that the other writers who read this will know the sound I mean. The sound of new worlds being born. One of the best sounds in the world.