Why In the World Did I Ever Think of Being a Writer?

To answer this question, I think I have to go back to my early childhoold. No, I did not dream of a being a best selling novel. No, I did not write notebooks full of stories. Wish I had. My beginnings as a writer were much more practical to me. I wrote stories in my head to help me sleep.

Some people can lay down and be asleep within minutes if not seconds. Not me. It would take me sometimes hours. I discovered that stories I wrote helped me sleep. It still took me quite a long time, but I would never notice when I slipped into DreamLand.

I would take a story I had read or something I had seen on TV (probably Disney as we only had two or three channels back then – yes, I just told my age.) One night, I’d work on the first scene. The next night, I’d try to remember where I left off and perfected a few things. That first scene could take a month or more to finish as I did it over and over, but it helped me to sleep. That was the goal.

When I was a kid, I read Gone With the Wind. This was a woman who had had no training as a writer and left a legacy. Why couldn’t I do it? Then I knew that one day I’d write a story. It took me another decade or two to actually attempt it.

Now, I have been told that I wrote stories in my school years, but I honestly do not remember them. Maybe they were just so bad that I wanted to forget they had ever existed.

My first story written was only to stop a recurring dream. A friend suggested I write it out so I’d stop dreaming. Then it turned into a book, then into a trilogy and then a few short stories to fill in gaps. The rest is the cliched history.

Sleep. Dreams. The perfect writing inspiration for me.

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