Writing

“If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.”
George Bernard Shaw

338-365

I was born with a writer’s soul. From the time I was able to make a reasoned choice (around age 8 ) I always wanted to be a writer, but when I grew up things changed, I lost that childish belief that anything was possible and it took me a long time to think of it as more than a dream.

My mother used to write, and I have inherited an in-tray filled with her writing that dates back to the 1950s, as well as the drive to be a writer.

I’ve been writing fiction seriously since I was in my mid-thirties (though I wrote my first short story purely for fun when I was 13). I’ve had a number of short stories published in print and on-line, and I have more than one novel in progress.

A while back I almost gave it up completely when I lost the urge to write. I found refuge in photography and decided to go with that and see what happened. Somehow without me forcing myself to write, it came back. At the time of writing (December 2007), my characters nudge me in my sleep, they make me get out of bed so I can get a few words down before I leave for work. I still worry about all those hours I’ve sweated – will all those words ever get out on bookshelves? I can’t bear the idea that it’s all a waste (for me an unpublished book is a waste – I wish it could be otherwise but it will never be). But I know that whatever happens, I will always have a writer’s soul.

I still do the photography, but it’s not the thing. Writing is the thing.

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