I wrote my first story on an old Royal manual typewriter back when I was in high school. I’m not sure when I started getting a passion for writing, but I always attribute it to the point in time after I read Michael Moorcock’s Elric of Melniboné (book or series, I can’t remember). I was also a big D&D nerd and wanted to create my own realm. But Elric…I remember the first line of that book and since then I’ve been hooked, not just on Michael Moorcock’s novels, but fantasy and sci-fi novels in general. I subconsciously compare all fantasy books now to Elric. It’s not fair, and it’s hard to beat. I don’t remember the story I wrote, it was one page I’m sure. I considered the “one page story” my forté for some reason. Most of them were…one page. I still have one of those pages. I typed it on an electric typewriter my parents bought me when I graduated high school. This typewriter was especially unique because it used 4 small ink modules instead of a ribbon (Sears). I could type in black, red, blue, or green. The technology was amazing. This around the time of the TRS-80 Model 4 with it’s amazing 40×80 resolution of white pixels the size of a small city on a black CRT and 2 (count ’em) 5 1/4″ floppy disks.
I digress. Massively.
Time passed, I wrote a bunch of shit, I still have some of it. I even created a newsletter with some drunken ramblings inside. But in 1998 I started thinking I could actually be…a writer (whatever that meant). What it meant to me was that I thought I was pretty good at it. I was good at it in Creative Writing in high school, and in composition in college. Then in 2004 I entered (and won) my first National Novel Writing Month gig. I couldn’t believe I crapped out a 50,000 word novel in a month! No outline, nothing, all muse and the seat of my pants. Then I did it again in 2005. And 2006. And 2007. Four novels, three genres. And most recently in 2020. Why the long break? I formed a band, I had 4 kids, I worked. Nuff said. I now write for 20 minutes per day in my free write journal. I start a short story, time goes off, I stop mid-
sentence (like that) so I can pick it up the next day, and write until I finish. I handwrite, with a pencil, in a 6×9 ruled journal. Last year I decided to try my hand again at Nano (as mentioned above) and convert an old drunkfest of a screenplay into a novel. I did it! Then realized I still had 27,000 words to go! I pulled it out of my @$$ at the last minute. 50,000 words…exactly. And the last word? I found a place to insert a “the” (yes, I had missed one somewhere).
But none of this matters!
Because sitting on my shelf are five shitty 50,000 word drafts of novels that only 3 people have seen and 40+ short stories that nobody has seen (except one which was published in an anthology…that I created…for our writers group). It doesn’t matter because, who cares? I’m not a professional writer, nobody has read my work to a degree that matters, I haven’t got paid for writing (until recently when I earned a whopping $.07 from Medium).
It’s all changing now. I have a deadline. I have a draft that I’ve been revising and adding to and discovering more of daily, since February. I have paid people real money to write blurbs and design covers. The first book is coming! Are you ready? (Am I ready? Dear God WTF am I doing???)
The other portion of this about me is I have six children, one grand child, spent twelve years in the military working on aircraft, and have several IT related certifications include a Project Management Professional certification, and…I have my real estate agent license. But I know what I want to be when I grow up.
I am a writer!