Looking Back

As part of one of my New Year's resolutions, I vowed to become more organized. I can hear my family laughing now. They already believe I am already far down that road - but about the "more" aspect. Okay, can I help it if I like things to be where they belong? Sigh.

Anyway, one of the things I am doing is going through all my files on my computer(s) and cleaning out some of the dust that has collected over the years. What I'm finding is an interesting look back at several years of correspondence, ideas filed for future use, recipes that I will probably never use, and tons of other stuff. I'm also finding articles I wrote over the years that involve the writing life. I'd like to share one of them with you now. This one was written in 2002.


Wasted Time

From the time I was old enough to hold a pencil, I knew I wanted to be a writer. I was always jotting down little stories and poems. Labeled as a slow reader, I garnered no encouragement from teachers, but rather from my father who would sit with me on his lap and do crossword puzzles or play word games with me. My dad taught me more about writing than anyone else. It was thanks to him that I learned to love reading and writing and once I did, there was no stopping me.

He also taught me another lesson: that no matter your age, if you have a dream, go for it. Dad published his first book of poetry when he was in his sixties. The thousand copies he had printed sold out in the first month. But, somewhere along the way, I let life get in the way of my dreams.

It has taken me more than thirty years to realize my dreams. At times, I feel as if I wasted all those years in not writing. If I had only started sooner, I’d have more books published, more articles written, more… you get the picture.

Yet, those years weren’t wasted. I raised a wonderful family and learned a lot along the way. Thanks to those years, I know how to keep four children from killing each other on a thousand mile trip. I can whip up an acceptable Halloween costume from odds-and-ends in the five minutes between being told they need it today and when the bus comes. I know how to weave cloth, use dyes that I gather from the yard or my cupboards and make that cloth into clothing that I am proud to wear. I can make soap and candles from scratch, build simple furniture, and erect a simple structure to survive. I can weave a basket and do needlepoint, knit, crochet and embroider. I can create a stained glass window and bake a passable soufflé, cook for two or two hundred. Am I an expert in these things? Not by a long shot. But I know the basics and where to find more information.

Over the years, I’ve held a variety of jobs including radio disc jockey, short-order cook, teacher, librarian, computer specialist, inventory specialist and secretary. I know people who can fly planes, are landscape artists, health professionals, people who work with nuclear reactors, college professors, cops, a naturalist and a judge. In my current job, I am able to gather nuances of characterizations from a wide cross-section of the population. Some day, the woman whose face makes you think she’s mad at the world may appear in one of my stories. What makes her so interesting is that, in spite of her look, you should see her with her husband of sixty-some years. They laugh and tease each other like a couple newly married and their joy spills over to others, unlike the woman who has everything going for her and yet manages to drain the joy from everyone as soon as she enters the room. I have gathered enough characters to fill several books.

While I may not have been writing during those years, I did not waste my time. The years were spent in gathering information and research. I have files full of story ideas and can write realistically about many subjects - things I wouldn’t have been able to do thirty years ago. Very few of us have the time that we would like to spend writing, but our time is not wasted. Use that time to gather information. Maybe the trials of getting your children to their various practices and meets can be used in a future story. Everything you do is fodder for the imagination. Store it, file it, remember it - and then use it.