One year for Christmas, I got a copy of "Charlotte's Web" and a pad of light blue 3-hole punched paper. I proceeded to copy the first chapter of "Charlotte's Web" on the paper. Thus began a long love affair with words (or for the cynical, plagiarism) that continues to this day.
I've wanted to be a writer as long as I can remember. I had other childhood career aspirations, including veterinarian, fireman, teacher...but the writing thing just stuck. Eventually, I learned that being a writer isn't something you become. It's something you ARE.
Today, I own a photo/video studio, and I create images for a living. I love what I do. I love my clients. It brings me great joy and satisfaction to start with a blank photographic canvas and create something memorable that people will enjoy for the rest of their lives. I will do this until I can no longer press a shutter with arthritic fingers or view the image through a lens with failing eyesight. Even then, I'll probably find a way.
What I've given up to follow this passion is my desire to write. Lately, the itch has come back. I was able to find a couple outlets and was published for the first time in years, even if it was just in the local paper. But now, with the newspaper downsizing and production being taken out of town, that outlet is gone. Opportunities are few and far between in a small town and frankly, I haven't had (or taken) the time to investigate new markets.
But I keep writing anyway. Because as Billy Crystal intoned in the otherwise horrible "Throw Mama From The Train", a writer writes. Always.
A couple weeks ago, I misplaced my glasses. Once necessary only to keep horrific eyestrain headaches at bay, they've become essential for close reading. Briefly, my love affair with the printed word suffered while I was unable to read the small print in the books I love so much. It friggin' sucks to get old. Last night, I found the elusive spectacles (they were behind the couch the whole time! That's where EVERYTHING hides!), and I took a deep dive back in my books the way a starving person attacks a plate of hamburgers.
I loves me some words, folks. I realize more and more that I have a lot to say, a lot I want to share, and a lot to contribute. The pictures pay the bills, and in a way they communicate in ways words never can. But I miss the written word, and I think it's time to rekindle that love affair.
Anyway. That's what's on my mind. Hope y'all are doing well. Thanks for reading.