When I was in school, I envied the kids who knew what they wanted to be when they grew up. They knew what classes to take and had college all planned out. I just couldn't think what I wanted to spend a lifetime doing. I let my friend talk me into taking secretarial classes, so that we could be in the Future Secretaries Club together. I didn't even think of college. I figured, I was just suppose to be a wife and mother. I did work as a secretary for several years (It gave me constant headaches.)
A few months ago I was reading a wonderful book. It was written about everyday life back in the thirties and forties, just a short book. A light bulb went off and I thought, I can write about my own life. Even though my life seems boring to me, I have lived for fifty-nine years and have seen a lot of changes in the world. I have always loved the Little House books by Laura Ingels Wilder (Even toured her last house in Missouri,) they were simple books about every day life.
As I sat and thought about it, I realized I have always been a writer. I still have the Barbie diary I started so many years ago. In the late 80's and early 90's I always kept beautiful calendar/journals which I still have. I even keep all my wall calendars, with their scribbled messages. Just one look at those messages and I am instantly brought back to that date and time.
Back when I was in high school, taking those secretarial classes, I always took another English class in addition to the Business English. Didn't that tell me anything?
When I did manage to take a college course (American History pre-1900,) my assignment was to be a newspaper reporter and report on the events leading up to the Civil War. My professor was so impressed with my work, he asked if I had thought about becoming a journalist.
I remember sitting at a little desk in my sister's room, painstakingly writing (In pencil) a family newspaper. As an adult, I wrote the newsletter for our Frontier Muzzleloaders club. Volunteering as a girl scout leader (Twice,) I insisted we have a troop newspaper, that I helped the girls write. Being Queen of my Red Hat group (The Lovelys of Lapeer) was another chance to write little newsletters. And I can't forget those Christmas newsletters I broke down and started writing a couple of years ago!
One year for my sister's birthday, I wrote and planned a murder mystery party for her The Cell Phone Murder. She said it was her best birthday ever. For my brother's birthday, I wrote a story for him about the cruise my dad had taken my brothers, sisters and I on. I gave that story a Peter Pan slant.
I can be a little dense sometimes. On my fiftieth birthday Gary took me for a ride to Port Huron. Halfway there, I said, “I don't really feel like going to Port Huron. Let's go home.” Turning down Maverick Lane, I noticed several cars parked on the street. “Somebodies having a party,” I commented. Even when we pulled into our driveway and I saw the garage filled with tables, chairs and people, it didn't dawn on me that it was a birthday party for me! Yes, I can be a little dense sometimes. Why didn't anybody tell me I was a writer?
Oh...A funny thing happened the day I published my first blog. I was going to contact friends and family about my blog (In case they wanted to read it,) when I noticed an e-mail from my aunt. She was e-mailing friends and family to let them know she had written and published a book! So at the ripe age of 80, she has discovered she is a writer. I guess I shouldn't feel so bad that I have just discovered my calling at the age of 59.
I may not be the best writer in the world, but I am a writer.