MY WRITING HISTORY

I don’t remember the exact moment I decided I wanted to be a writer, but I can tell you when it wasn’t.

• It wasn’t when I made the New Year’s Resolution to write a complete novel manuscript in 2012 or when I finished it just days before Christmas.
• It wasn’t when I read any of the dozens of books on the craft of writing and all the tedious minutia that is part of the lifestyle we as writers commit to when setting out on this solitary journey.
• It wasn’t when I starting writing e-mail snippets of a middle grade fantasy novel after college. I dutifully sent those attempts over that summer to my girlfriend who was back home in American Samoa. I was pantsing before I knew what pantsing was. That was an unfinished manuscript that has so far managed to stay that way.
• It wasn’t when one of my best friends, Paul, and I decided to co-author a Hardy Boys Casefile and managed to eke out several thousand words of a pretty decent plot (see picture of our mock up). One of us, probably Paul, even went so far as to reach out to the publisher. We received a form rejection of sorts, but it’s still cool to look back and see those attempts.
• It wasn’t when Ms. Garrity had me write and illustrate my largely derivative treasure hunting story (hat tip to Peggy Parish). I wish I still had that little book, laminated pages and all.
• It wasn’t the hundreds of trips to the library only two blocks from my house. I loved that place and I still go back once in a while!
• It wasn’t the countless hours my father read the Sugar Creek Gang books to me and my brother for bedtime stories. Later we graduated to Chronicles of Narnia and others.  I never forgot the magic of snuggling up next to him as he read to us, even when we got so old as to read our own books while he read. Shameful.   

No, none of those were the exact point where I decided to become a writer, but looking back, maybe they all were. Single steps in a journey that has informed my life and focused my passion for ink on a page, or letters on a screen, or words dictated on an app.

Maybe it wasn’t a decision, but rather deciding over a long period of time. Affirming what I loved and following the alluring call of something so tangible and non-tangible, all rolled into one. ​

A mock up of the Hardy Boys book that Paul and I were writing. I still have a
letter from Paramount, the parent company at the time, rejecting our attempt.