My Writing Journey

Writing always came naturally to me, if not always easily. As a child, my parents taught me to read and write before kindergarten. I fell in love with books and started reading well beyond my age group. Unlike the overbearing atmosphere of today, my parents never told me a book was unfit to read. They understood that reading is the cornerstone of understanding and learning.

Writing came a bit later. I wrote short stories; my parents read them, gave me writing advice, and encouraged me to write more. I started by modifying stories I read, and then my parents told me to use my imagination and create new stories and characters.

I spent hours in my room as an only child creating my own worlds and inventing stories to tell about them. I drew heavily from the news and sci-fi and fantasy authors. I took real-world stories and tailored them to my world. I rapidly outpaced my friends, who never understood my fascination with learning and creating. I didn’t mind their opinions that much because I was doing something that made me happy. While I spent time playing, my mind was always racing in every direction imaginable with no constraints.

According to the other kids, I was a brainiac when I started elementary school. I grasped ideas and concepts more quickly than most of my classmates. A few other kids also excelled, but their gifts were more in the math and science realms. I could understand those subjects, but they never genuinely interested me. I would write during class after I finished my assignment. Eventually, the teachers noticed and asked me about my writing. I told them that creating a story by myself made me feel good.

Once, my teacher asked me to read one of my stories to the rest of the class. I was terrified, but I completed reading a short story. When the teacher asked me about the characters and places, I explained that they were from earlier stories. Without realizing it, I developed characters who remained remarkably constant from one story to another.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t an opportunity to develop my writing skills at that age because the teachers had to teach everyone and not select individuals because that would have been unfair. So, I kept writing without guidance or advice, but I still wrote because I enjoyed it so much. I inspired my imaginary worlds using writers such as David Eddings and Terry Pratchett. I was always trying to make my stories more interesting as I went along. Of course, there were few writing assignments in elementary school, so I never had an opportunity to evaluate my writing at that time.

In Middle School, my writing continued, and I had actual reports to write on books I read and other topics. I wrote one essay on the Beatles but went past what they accomplished and surmised what they could have accomplished if they hadn’t broken up. My teacher hated the essay until she reread it and realized that I had done my research and completed her assignment, but I took several steps further. Eventually, she gave me an “A” for originality and defended my work against her initial criticism. I learned a lesson that I could write and persuade people if I did my research and stuck to my guns.

I was getting good grades in my writing and started discovering my writing limitations. I was convinced to join the student newspaper, but I quickly learned that I was not too fond of the required constrained writing. I could write on a topic, but my articles weren’t used unless the editor ripped the guts out of my writing. I resigned rather than compromise my writing because it was a personal attack, in my opinion.

As I became more passionate about my writing, I became more protective. I accepted criticism but was not too fond of editing my words to fit someone else’s narrative. If I write something erroneous, I will retract it, but I won’t allow someone to deform my work; this was a valuable lesson.

In High School, my interests expanded into music and sports. My writing evolved when I wrote a script for a class project with several others. We re-enacted a moment from current history at the time. I developed characters and situations to put them in. I provided drama, conflict, and a resolution at the end. We recorded the project with a camcorder which lasted approximately fifteen minutes. We got an “A” for our efforts.

I enjoyed taking the next step of putting my writing into action. I wasn’t concerned with being in front of the camera as long as I controlled how my work was presented. Sadly, that project was a one-time affair because no class related to creative writing or content creation existed in approximately 1981.

I met several other students who loved writing. We each had our niches to fill. But we explored writing other things and broadened our horizons. While I was in high school, people approached me about writing their assignments for them. I was conflicted because I enjoyed the acknowledgment of my writing ability while, at the same time, I didn’t want to get into trouble. I also recognized that the “popular” kids wanted my help but otherwise paid me no attention at all.

I refused to write for other people. The decision cost me because not only was I one of the “weird” kids, I had openly declared that I wouldn’t fit in or compromise my principles. My popularity was never a concern because I didn’t have any. What I did was help people who asked by reading their work and making suggestions, but I never changed a single word. I let them make their corrections. It was a compromise, but it suited me at the time. I graduated high school and made my first foray into the outside world.

When I got to college, I expected everything to be fantastic and the opposite of high school. I was wrong. While I met others who were passionate about writing, I encountered, for the first time, a sense of competition among writers. This approach struck me as odd because none of us were attempting to write the same things. Everyone was creative in their own right. I was a Political Science major and used my writing skills to draft my projects and present options for the day’s problems. My professors liked my approach but cautioned me against letting my creativity go past the set boundaries of an assignment as they had before. For the first time, I had to discipline myself while writing—another valuable lesson along my path. Most of my exams were written assignments in the little blue books colleges used then. I learned to write with a deadline and present a polished final product. I still argued with my professors when they misinterpreted my work, and as long as I could show my case, things worked out. Strangely enough, even now, I never thought about being a writer as a career. One would think that my long writing history would make me want to do even more, but I still did it for the pure joy of it.

I went into the world of politics and international affairs, so I joined the Navy. My writing suddenly became almost useless to me. The military writes things in a particular way. Military reports have to be simple, straightforward, and to the point. Military writing must also be at an 8th or 9th-grade level for everyone to understand. Creativity had no place in the Navy, especially in writing. I still wrote in my spare time. One year we had a port call in Rhodes, Greece. I was fascinated by the place and the history around me. I walked out of town along a dusty road and found myself at the edge of an olive grove. It was a brilliant, sunny day, so I sat under one of the outlying trees, pulled out my notebook, and started writing. I imagined how many people had trodden that road over thousands of years and perhaps sat under the same tree. Before I knew it, several hours had passed. A family stopped and talked with me in broken English. They invited me to their home, and I enjoyed a fabulous Greek dinner and some Ouzo to top off the meal. It was getting dark when I walked back into town, and I had almost filled my notebook with observations and imaginative writing. I still consider that one of the best days of my life.

Unfortunately, I had to go back to writing in the Navy manner. I felt miserable because my mind wanted to be free, but I had a job to do, so I plugged ahead.

When I left the Navy, I found a job writing software test plans, which was very confining. I had to make a living, so once again, I subjugated my writing to put food on the table. I think engineers and software developers are very bright people, but their creativity is very selective and focused. They want writing which is clear and concise to them, not to the author. Certain words were forbidden. It was impossible to suggest a solution to a problem and let them determine if it could work. Instead, I had to describe an issue and let them develop something in a vacuum without understanding what an end-user needed. I enjoyed the challenge at first, but my frustration rapidly grew. I constantly butted heads with developers because I saw too many examples of features that were developed but didn’t solve the initial problem because of the lack of communication between users and developers.

Creative writing was useless in that environment. After my health fell apart, I took disability and left the job. I had a lot of time, so I started writing again. I found Medium and started to write there. I didn’t expect to make real money, and I haven’t disappointed myself yet. In eight months, the most I’ve made was $4. There was an upside to all of this. I rediscovered my love of writing.

Along with that, I also encountered my old pet peeve when people asked me to edit/censor my work for their publications. I refused every time and decided to start my website, https://www.dreamersreadyroom.com/, so I controlled everything there. I am overcoming the shyness I endured for years, and my courage is returning. I don’t write for money or approval. I write because I love it. If others enjoy my stories, that is awesome, and whatever I do make is the icing on the cake.

I’m working on a podcast, which I hope to launch next month after some medical and insurance issues get resolved. I won’t suppress my creative spirit any longer.