Writing

The first letter I remember writing was to my grandmother. We lived for a time in Louisiana and I suppose the crabs, crocodiles and humidty went to my head. I wrote her and she wrote back and offered me wonderful encouragment. "You'll be a great writer someday."

But one's grandmother is just one removed from mother, so though I was happy SHE was happy, I didn't much think of myself as being a writer. And the same grandmother also encouraged me to get a job that "pays". Even grandmother knew that not all dreams pay well.

Over the years I've dabbled in writing, reading all the time, thinking that I would still love to grow up and be a writer. There is no activity, save reading, that gives me more pleasure and a sense of being "in sync" than writing.

Recently, through a series of really interesting events I stumbled upon someone who is a "real" writer and who believes in my work. And she and I are working on getting some of my creations -- should I say "our" creations together.

And since there is a big difference between a "writer" and a "published writer" then I should hasten to add that sure, being published would be a dream come true. But just having someone say (besides a family member) that what I have to say and how I say it is worthwhile is more than enough for me.

This blog is a good "training tool" for me and a lot of the stuff that I'm working to refine may have first been seen here.

I have a lot to learn, probably more than I realize. But the adventure is calling and I'm up for the trip.