OK, this is hard. I have just spent 40 minutes sitting here with a notepad, holding my pen poised above the first blank line.
Didn’t write a thing: just sat there.
I have a writing assignment to do. And I was brainstorming on the subject. I could write about my hobbies or my job and co-workers. I even thought of a story from the perspective of a writer pushing his quill and inkpot aside and using a fountain pen for the first time. Or the writer putting his fountain pen in a drawer and clicking his first ballpoint pen into action. (I like this idea. Maybe at a later date.)
My chosen favorite, drum roll please, “How Not To Write A Book for 48 Years”.
I can blame the first 5 years on having to learn to walk and talk and feed myself. Then the next couple of years were involved with learning the alphabet, printing “cat” and “dog” and learning cursive writing. This time was also filled with naptime and the consumption of that wonderful delicacy, school paste. The next 10 years or so comprised of more and more and more formal schooling. With extracurricular activities and homework, little time seemed to be left for anything else.
The next 30 plus years were full of the activity of being an adult. You know that routine: get a job to have an income to support yourself, provide a roof over your head and a vehicle for transportation so you can get to your job and then home again to clean, cook, do yard work and laundry, go to bed and start all over again the next morning. These were
very good years just very full and busy with all kinds of activities demanding priority treatment.
Writing has always been an interest for me but never took center stage.
Then last spring, I was suddenly downsized from my job in a medical office. Certainly surprised me! I was out of work for four months. This was a very frightening time for me–the first time in my life I had been out of work for longer than 2 weeks. Really brought home to me how tenuous working for someone else can be. Job security is nonexistent in today’s real-world and I never want to be in that position again. I know, I know…after spending the day job hunting, I should have been writing. But it is hard to write anything more complicated than a grocery list (bread, milk, Ramen Noodles) when you are panicking about being out of work.
So here I am, 48 years after my debut into this world and studying to embark on a new but very exciting career. I have no delusions that I will be the next Ernest Hemingway or Stephen King or Patricia Cornwell but hopefully, I can make a comfortable living from the craft of putting pen to paper or more correctly, putting fingers on the computer
Dorothy J Brockman
Just my thoughts on getting started.
**Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels