How did I get here and why do I keep going?
It’s an interesting question and one I’m not sure I can answer well. You see I don’t know how I got here. Well I know how I got here, there’s my mum and my dad, and well you get the picture. I’m talking about how I became a writer and I’ll be honest, I haven’t got a clue. I’ve always done it. Whether stories, poetry or just random thoughts, I’ve always written. Now the question of how I decided that’s what I’d be when I grew up is confusing. I don’t recall making the decision, ever. But here I am tapping away at the keys of my computer and writing with pen and paper. Always. And if I’m not writing I’m thinking about writing. I’m always thinking. That explains why I don’t sleep very well and why I’m always tired, so why am I still here and why do I keep going? I guess it comes back to the always writing and thinking. At the risk of sounding insane, there are just too many people in my head. They’ve got to come out or I’ll be pulling out my hair and heading for the alcohol. I can be doing anything when scenes start rolling in my head, that’s what it’s like, I’ll suddenly have front row seats to someone else’s life. I don’t plan; in fact when I try to plan those pesky characters never go along with me. I’m sure they do it on purpose. I guess the answer to why I’m still here is that I can’t not be here. It’s who I am and what I do and whether it ever leads me to publication remains to be seen but even if it doesn’t I’ll still be here. Writing. And even when life throws things at me that make me want to quit I know I’d never be able to because I’ll never be able to stop writing. I stopped for years when the kids were young and as soon as I started again it was like an avalanche, pouring out of me. Most of it was crap and will never find its way out of the bottom draw but it was the beginning of what was to be my trip down the publication road. The road is bumpy, has detours, potholes and all sorts of debris lying on it but I keep going. Through rain, hail, sleet and snow, and of course the wonderful sunshine. Even when I feel like I’m carrying the weight of the world and dragging my feet I keep going because no matter what gets in the way or what I have to carry with me the dream is always there. And without that dream I wouldn’t be me.
Keep you dreams alive. They're who you are.