I’d like to say my earliest memory was of writing, but it’s not. When I was five I fell off the monkey-bars in a playground. I hit my head on a metal bar and got a huge black eye.
But my second earliest memory is typing out a story on my Commodore 64 in which I discovered my sister was an alien and she was forced to go back to her home planet.
I loved to amuse myself by making up little stories. Of course, back then I didn’t know what I was doing. It was just a way to pass the time. I never actually thought I could take writing seriously.
It wasn’t until the end of high school that, after some encouragement from the teachers, I began to wonder if perhaps I could be an actual writer. One who wrote actual books. Maybe I could make writing a career instead of just a hobby.
The problem was I was really bad at it back then. It took twenty years of practice and life experience to get where I am today. I still don’t have a published book released yet, but I’m working on it. I feel like my current project is the one. I love it and I can’t wait to finish it.
I started this blog as a writing exercise. It helps to write regularly, and to write things other than my book. It helps keep the juices flowing, so to speak.