So I promised I'd include some of the strange journey that has been my life. How I ended up writing, and everything else I do for that matter. So, let's push on.
As a kid, I went to a school just about a mile away from my home. I walked it most days. Sometimes alone, often with a friend most often in a group. During the alone times, I'd daydream and tend to make up stories. As a group walker or the times with a friend, we'd talk about movies we saw and/or books (including comic books). Sometimes I'd tell a story. Often those stories were subject linked with what we talked about. Most were related to the ones I'd contemplate on my lone walks. A couple were made up as I went. For me it was fun. Little did I know I was "writing" fiction. Some of the stories had me as a character, they amounted to lies. Entertaining, fun, but by strict rules still lies. Didn't seem like anyone objected. Like any kid, I had some lying strings anyway. My excuses for not having homework often went beyond the simple, "the dog ate it." One teacher even told my parents I was an inventive storyteller. The first appearance of PC speak in my life. Our school was 1st grade to 8th, but the oldest 2 years were on the top floor of the building and we changed classes rather than teachers changing. It was in English class where my written stories were noticed and appreciated. One nun even told me I should write every day (Like that was gonna happen -- I still had problems getting homework done).
So in High School, I discovered I sucked at English Grammer or, so my marks said. I ended up going to summer school to get that mark up. The next year and the ensuing years English Grammer was incorporated into Eglish Literature. I excelled because I loved to read. Soon the application worked for me. I was all A's and B's after that. During this time I did precious little writing except for the occasional bitting notes about some football rival.
Along comes marriage, job, family. I was born to be married. I liked my job (Construction Electrician) and having a family was SO exciting! Early on (1974 or so) my employment was taken. Laid off in the midst of the Gas crisis and the crumby economy during those times. I was able to make do with unemployment and some side jobs to supplement the income. A trade like being an electrician helps. Still, with two young children, I had time on my hands. A story grew within me and I began by writing ideas, then plot scenes and finally a descriptive, clear end to a story. How I got to that story seemed to be involving writing a book.
Times had moved on. I had written a scant skeleton-like story - more detailed than an outline but still, lightweight. Now, back to full-time work and blessed with a third child we were busy. Still, I'd write, and because of that, I made a change.
Well. That's far enough at this point... I'll be back with more some future Post...
As a kid, I went to a school just about a mile away from my home. I walked it most days. Sometimes alone, often with a friend most often in a group. During the alone times, I'd daydream and tend to make up stories. As a group walker or the times with a friend, we'd talk about movies we saw and/or books (including comic books). Sometimes I'd tell a story. Often those stories were subject linked with what we talked about. Most were related to the ones I'd contemplate on my lone walks. A couple were made up as I went. For me it was fun. Little did I know I was "writing" fiction. Some of the stories had me as a character, they amounted to lies. Entertaining, fun, but by strict rules still lies. Didn't seem like anyone objected. Like any kid, I had some lying strings anyway. My excuses for not having homework often went beyond the simple, "the dog ate it." One teacher even told my parents I was an inventive storyteller. The first appearance of PC speak in my life. Our school was 1st grade to 8th, but the oldest 2 years were on the top floor of the building and we changed classes rather than teachers changing. It was in English class where my written stories were noticed and appreciated. One nun even told me I should write every day (Like that was gonna happen -- I still had problems getting homework done).
So in High School, I discovered I sucked at English Grammer or, so my marks said. I ended up going to summer school to get that mark up. The next year and the ensuing years English Grammer was incorporated into Eglish Literature. I excelled because I loved to read. Soon the application worked for me. I was all A's and B's after that. During this time I did precious little writing except for the occasional bitting notes about some football rival.
Along comes marriage, job, family. I was born to be married. I liked my job (Construction Electrician) and having a family was SO exciting! Early on (1974 or so) my employment was taken. Laid off in the midst of the Gas crisis and the crumby economy during those times. I was able to make do with unemployment and some side jobs to supplement the income. A trade like being an electrician helps. Still, with two young children, I had time on my hands. A story grew within me and I began by writing ideas, then plot scenes and finally a descriptive, clear end to a story. How I got to that story seemed to be involving writing a book.
Times had moved on. I had written a scant skeleton-like story - more detailed than an outline but still, lightweight. Now, back to full-time work and blessed with a third child we were busy. Still, I'd write, and because of that, I made a change.
Well. That's far enough at this point... I'll be back with more some future Post...
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