The History of the World (Part 7)
People are always asking me how long I have been a writer. This is one of the most difficult questions possible, and I shall attempt to explain why.
It would be easy for me to sidestep the question and say that I started at age two but took a break for a while when my parents took away my crayons and made me repaint the walls - but I won't. This is a question that needs a serious answer, and I am desperately trying to find one.
Imagine that I ask you when was the first time you saw a sunset. Do you know? Can you answer that question? Do you remember your first Christmas? How about the first time you ever smiled? Do you remember the first food you ever ate or the first song you ever heard?
Do you see what I am getting at?
Some things enter our lives at an early age and never leave. We know that they had a starting point, but we can't remember it. It is as if they have always been a part of us - and that's how I feel about writing.
I am the oldest child in my extended family, and I remember telling stories to my sisters, brother and cousins when I was "taking care of them," which actually meant keeping them amused and out of trouble. On rainy days, I would spend hours making comic strips or comic books or magazines - just for the fun of it. I wrote long, illustrated letters to my friends because that was just the way I did things. A long-running joke of mine way back when was, "I am sorry to write such a long letter, but I didn't have time to write a short one."
And so it goes.
So, the short, simple answer is that I have always been a writer. I never studied to be one. I never trained to be one. I have simply followed my passion and never given up on it.
And here I am - a writer. I may be a good one. I may be a bad one. That's for you to decide. My job is to write and never stop writing. And that is what I hope to do.
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