I’m an older, wiser and more experienced writer today then I was when I started writing in 2010 after a friend continued to “encourage” me to come to a memoir writing class. I caved.
I can’t say I’m a good or even great writer, but after month after month of being told I was, I guess I’ll concede. I love to write.
At the start of my writing journey, I was obsessed. I did all the “write” things. I always carried a pencil; or pen. I had paper of various sizes, from cards, journals, to full size notebooks; even paper napkins from whatever coffee shop I had visited that day. I tried tape recorders but the noise of the traffic would garble my speech. I would carry a laptop, which can be a little weighty when you’re riding a bike. Oh, but that’s when my thoughts would take flight. I would stop mid-pedal, grab my pencil and scribble. I stopped a lot. In 2007 I bought a Paul Frank baby blue beach cruiser with a blue butterfly bell; and it was full of adjectives. I still have it.
I took a hiatus from writing for the last few years, until my writing teacher, Bonnie Mansell, reached out to me through an email to suggest I come to another group she teaches. I’m happy I did.
Did I forget to tell you I’m in my late sixties and remarried after twenty-three years of being permanently single.