I know I have shared this story before, but it never hurts to revisit it.
I descibe my journey by saying, “I wrote something, Mom liked it, so I became a writer.” And for the most part, this is true. But let me go back a little farther.
I was an only child to a single mom. My parents were divorced, and my dad was living quite a ways away from us. Even when he was watching me while Mom was at work, I would still go off on my own and make up stories.
There was a garage that had a “jungle” behind it, and when I went through it and around the garage and I emerged on the other side, I was in a different world, with different people, and different problems.
My bike was a horse, and I would ride it over to my elementary school that was just around the corner. There, I would hop on boats, and spaceships and get trapped in dungeons (which I would escape from because I’m stealthy like that).
Back at home, my dad and I would hunt bears with guns (or sticks).
Now, back with my mother, I still went off and did my own thing, but Mom was pretty much my playmate. I had an imaginary sister who was mean to me, so I didn’t play with her much.
Mom was fortunate to have one job where she could bring me. She worked at a golf course, and I pretty much had a run of the place because everyone knew me and loved me. I would dance on the stage in the ballroom, and use the golf carts as taxies.
One day, I wandered into my mom’s boss’ office. I sat in his big swivle chair, and put my little seven year old fingers to the keyboard and typed something along the lines of, “There once was a boy who went into the woods. There was a lake and in it he saw…”.
That’s it. That’s all she wrote. And my mother loved it. And I decided to be a writer.
Now, listen. I had drawn many pictures up to this point that my mother loved. Why didn’t I decide to be an illistrator? Because I couldn’t draw worth a darn. Some might say I couldn’t write worth a darn either. But “something” told me I was a writer. And I believed it.
I wrote multiple stories over the next few years, using my “only child” imagination to fuel the smoke not yet a fire. In 2010, while in college studying audio production, I participated in my first NaNoWriMo. But the fire never flickered until two years later.
During summer break, I went to visit my dad. I had been having a rough time in school, and when I told him I wanted to quit, he adamantly told me, “No.” Now, mind you, he hadn’t been in my life for a while, and my mom had the final word, but if this was a foreshadowing of what my mother would be like, I was in for it.
One night, I caught myself writing at two in the morning. And it hit me. I’d rather write at two in the morning than mix a song. I knew I was a writer. I just had to convince my mom.
It wasn’t that hard. Here’s how the conversation went:
Me: Mom, I want to quit college to be a writer.
Mom: Ok, start a blog.
Six years later, I have a blog and two published short stories. The only reason I published the first one was because I burned my foot at work and I couldn’t do anything anyway. I figured I’d use that time to mark “Publish Something” off of my todo list. The other one was just because I could.
With countless finished and unfinished stories/books under my belt, you’d think I’d have more stuff published. But honestly, I haven’t had much mental energy for the past four years. I’m so drained from my job that I just don’t write anymore. I wish I could say, “Mom, I want to quit my job to become a writer.” But Mom doesn’t have a stable job right now, so I have to support us. It’s hard enough for me to even write a blog post.
I do want to publish something this year, though. I have ideas (I always have ideas), but I have to actal sit down and do something with them. That takes time, energy, umph, and patience, four things I haven’t had lately.
But anyway, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
This post is inspired by the DIYMFA Book Club writing prompt, “What’s Your Origin Story?”.
- If you would like to join the DIYMFA Book Club, click here.
- If you would like to learn more about the book, click here.
Very interesting story, it’s always great learning about what made people fall in love with writing. I’ve just always enjoyed it and felt sad that I would stop writing after graduating university!
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Thank you for reading! Don’t stop doing writing if you enjoy it. Even if you can’t write as much as you want to, write a little bit. Something is better than nothing.
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