My brief time as a writer
It all started as a child. My class project was to “write a novel” when I was in 3rd grade. I loved it. My father was the protagonist and his adventure was based very loosely on Indiana Jones. I was hooked. I wanted to write more stories. I stopped writing for a long time, though, because I didn’t think I could fit it into my life. Turns out I can, a little at a time.
I was an OK student and did well at school, especially English class. By the time I hit my senior year of high school, I was working full time at night as well as going to school. But I still found time to scribble a story here and there. The last thing I remember writing took two drafts (pen & paper then a Smith Corona typewriter). It earned a “university quality” remark from my hip English teacher.
“I am good at this”, I thought.
Then I stopped doing it. For years. But I always thought I would get back into writing. Twenty five years went by. Now I have a toddler, a full time job, and a spouse I love and want to spend time with in the evenings. How can I write? Simple: I get up every morning at 4:45, shower, make a coffee, and sit down to write until the boy wakes up. Why didn’t I do this years ago?
The problem is that now my son is waking up earlier and earlier. What used to be a glorious hour has condensed into only 20 minutes sometimes.
Is my brief career over? I hope not. I have the bug again. I’ve started to write short fiction instead of “a novel”. I am trying to work on short pieces that I can also pick away at on my phone a sentence at a time. Instead of brilliance, I am trying to get to “acceptable finished product”.
Wish me luck. My time as a writer is brief but there are lots of mornings to come. Who knows? Maybe I’ll write something great and make my 3rd grade self proud.