Well, here goes. I never thought of myself as a blogger. Actually, about two years ago, I didn’t even know what a blog was or how to use it. Boy, how quickly things change when you stop doing the same old, same old and start to explore new ideas.
When I was young, I learned early on that I had “the gift of gab” as my grandmother would always tell me. She had it too and was really proud to sit for hours with me, in her cottage sun porch, looking over the shimmering water, and tell me stories. She shared family history, silly anecdotes, life lessons, private thoughts and words of wisdom. She always told me to never be ashamed of being good at something and to always reach higher than I thought I could go.
I’m a little embarrassed to share that one of the best gifts I received as a child was a brand new Bic ballpoint pen. I know, what a geek! The second best gift? A brand new pad of paper. You see, even then I knew I’d be a writer.
I’d scribble down thoughts and secrets, and mainly, just words. I’m dating myself here, but we didn’t have the internet back then. We had only a few channels on TV, and we always had to be in the house when the street lights came on. Life was definitely simpler back then, but it didn’t seem that way. To me, the world was a large, mysterious place – one that I wanted to explore, or at least pretend I did.
I read constantly. Mostly fiction at first, but as I grew older, you’d find me with my nose glued inside of any type or genre of book. Mom would always yell at me to go outside and play. I enjoyed being a kid, but I also enjoyed being whoever I was reading about. I always thought it would be amazing to write a book like that – the kind my reader just couldn’t put it down.
Time marched on, as it always does. I was a good student (no surprise there), and I, of course, excelled at English. I was always the teacher’s pet and got to know my English teachers well. I was mainly interested in learning whatever I could about writing and storytelling. I learned quickly that if I could write, I could ace every class (I’m still not great with numbers). I even passed that lesson on to my daughter – the same rules apply even all these years later.
Sadly, my career path didn’t lead me even close to being the best-selling author I dreamed about. I’ve spent most of my adult years working in construction, authoring several thousand spectacularly written letters for my bosses, and many, many behind-the-scenes editorials for real estate newspaper sections. I can’t tell you exactly what prompted me to revisit my passion; but about two years ago, after much prompting by my husband, family and friends, I finally took a leap of faith into the freelance writing world.
While it’s possible no one will be interested in the stories I have to share, I haven’t outgrown my desire to tell them. I’ve got a lifetime of experiences that may just be helpful to a few who linger on my pages. This may be a late-in-life career, but I’m starting to realize that a younger me would had a very different story to tell.
I learn new things every day. I hope you’ll join me again, so we can explore all the great things life has to offer together.