Confessions of an Amateur Writer

I started writing when I was about five years old. No, I don’t mean my name. Stories and poems poured forth from my little imagination without bidding. I set up a library in my room as a youngster and decided I would love to create imaginary worlds just like the authors whose books lined my shelves had. I love to tell stories and seem to have a story for every situation. Writing them down means playing with words; or better yet manipulating them to do my bidding. Sounds like I’m a control freak–not so. It’s just that creating anything fulfills my soul like nothing else. Thinking of ways to produce something with a few items, or as the case may be, a story out of words stirs a challenge in my heart and upon completion, a satisfaction deep within.

So, I wrote whenever I could. I created stories about the kids in my neighborhood. I penned poems about life and love. A few English teachers in junior and senior high school, and then again in college  praised my works and encouraged me to pursue my dream. After completing numerous creative writing courses and scrawling stacks of journals, short stories, articles, curriculum, tossed about novel ideas and one completed (I use that term very loosely) personal experience manuscript, I have entered the world of technology. Here we are blogging and writing essays for contests. The Bible says not to despise the day of small beginnings so I embrace my baby stepping into creating a life as an author. We’ll see how it goes.

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