My passionate love affair with writing began at a very early age and wasn't fulfilled until the latter part of my life. The years in between were spent overcoming the myths and justifications that danced in my head about why I could never be a writer.
Growing up, books were my great escape. With no television and minimal contact with the outside world, books were a magic carpet that transported me to far away places. My beloved mother, Mary, insisted that all three of her children not only be literate but also love books. We had shelves that dad had made and they were filled with books in the front room. Most of them were very old and out-dated since they had been picked up at penny sales or given to my mother by others.
Amidst those books was a set of encyclopedias that had blue covers with gold printing. They were published sometime in the 1930's and someone had given them to mom. Despite being decades out-of-date, we loved those books filled with knowledge. Often mom, with great pride, would say, "Go look it up in the encyclopedias." Most likely by the time we left home, I had read almost every volume.
Of course old knowledge can be a trap and in my freshman year in high school (we were transported from our small rural school by long bus rides to a more sophisticated high school) we had a science class project. Going home, I planned my outline and then took down the old blue cover books of knowledge and worked hard to prepare for my first high school science report. When I presented it, the information was so old that my teacher, Mr. Downey, made fun of me in front of the class as they all roared with laughter. My refuge of knowledge had betrayed me in the most humiliating way.
Quickly I learned the library had access to current information. At the same time I began to fall in love with Steinbeck, Capote, Williams and other great American writers. With a dictionary by my side I would look up words that I never encountered before reading their books. Amazed at their ability to make sentences flow with imagery that boggled the mind. I was in awe. Later in college I discovered the classics and current international writers.
I yearned so badly to be a writer but was convinced that my background, schooling and the little blue books of knowledge had left me in the dust of that possibility.
Sometimes we find our dreams come true out of necessity and that is how I became a writer. After being arrested in front of the White House over DADT in 1993 all my clients left me almost within a week. No one would hire me and quickly my debts became massive over the next three years. A literary agent named Todd Shuster approached me about writing what would become my first book -Stranger Among Friends. Desperate for funds, the fear, low self-esteem and barriers had to be discarded.
At first my attempts to duplicate the beauty of the sentences of my favorite writers had to be forever vanished from my writing. My strength was not the flow of my prose nor the structure of my sentences. Storytelling was my ticket to writing and I was an excellent story teller. With that, at the age of fifty, I published my first book.
After three books, two screenplays, a play and this blog, I have realized a lifelong dream. I have joined the pantheon of those before me who put pen to paper to hopefully, in some small measure, enlighten the human condition.
I am a writer
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