Having done nearly 30 author interviews now through my Sunday feature The Fox Hole if there is one consistent thing I hear from writers is that they KNEW. Knew what you may ask? Well, they knew on some level that they were a writer their entire lives. Some started sooner than others, but most of them knew they wanted to write whether poetry, stories, and/or songs–THEY KNEW.
This actually got me to thinking about my own journey toward being a writer. When people have asked me when I knew I was a writer I always stumble. To be honest I have no clue when it happened–it just did.
As long as I can remember I always wanted to be an artist. Yes, it’s a creative path, but not the one I’ve been on in the past few years. I remember sitting as a very small child in the bedroom floor with a stack of paper, drawing crude scenes of people and houses from places I’d never been, but dreamed of seeing. These images were from the stories I read as a kid.
I was always ahead of the other kids in my class when it came to reading. My mother taught me how to read when I was four after I came to her with my favorite book Big Pond, Little Pond and announced that I could read. Amused my mother asked me to read the book and I did, turning each page, and saying the words in the exact order. My mother wasn’t fooled, she knew I’d memorized the book. It was then that she taught me to read.
By the time I was in the 1st grade I was reading at a 4th grade level. The books were incredibly important to me. They were my escape from the poor life I grew up in then later as an escape from the fear that swallowed me when my father’s medications ceased to work and home became a nightmare.
I never ceased my art and it along with my books helped me work my way through the scariest era in my life. I dreamed of traveling to faraway places both real and imagined. And during that time I kept a journal where I vented what most teenagers vent about. Despite that it never even crossed my mind that I would grow up to be a writer.
As an adult I stumbled into writing after years of jobs where I met people that intrigued me, inspired me and my art. So many characters. My writing started in fandom, but I still never believed it would ever lead anywhere. For me the stories I wrote took the place of the journals I’d kept at one time; a way to purge myself of the anger and stress of everyday life.
Now here I am–a published writer. I’m not rolling in money, but I love what I do. The rough path I’ve tread throughout my life has given me the inspiration to create stories where no matter how bad it gets we are always left with hope at the end of the day. Hope that we’ll all survive and grow stronger because of the experiences we’ve had.
Recently, I was discussing with a friend the fact that my covers would have to be withdrawn from a blog due to the fact I wouldn’t be able to provide any articles for said blog. Of course, she being the person she is encouraged me to rethink my stance. She said straight forward and blunt that You have opinions, I know that, I’ve heard them. After making some suggestions she let me know that whatever I decided she would support me.
One of those suggestions was to do movie reviews.
I gave it an incredible amount of thought and then sat down a few days later to do my first movie review. Once I got started I was surprised how smoothly the words, opinions, and humor flowed. Posting the review was another thing all together. My nerves almost held me back, but my friend’s words and my Irish stubbornness won out in the end.
The result was both surprising and exciting. After having done three well received reviews I was invited to post my reviews to a site known as 7Tavern a site for up and coming movie reviewers. Sure I don’t get paid for the reviews, but that doesn’t mean that at sometime down the road that someone might not offer me a paying gig–who knows.
After all inspiration leads to surprising venues sometimes. 😀