Getting started again

By the time I turned 7 years of age, I knew I would be a writer when I grew up. I'll turn 50 in 2010, so I guess it's time to grow up.

Actually, I finally find myself with time to write as my son, Frank, is off to law school and my daughter, Gina, is a freshman in college.

Over the years, I did write, but my writing consisted of little books about using the potty for my kids, a monthly newsletter and press releases for the PTA and the high school Drama Club, and entries into various poetry and short story competitions.

I always defined "being a writer" as writing something that other people read. My children read my little books written for them, strangers read my press releases for information, and judges read my entries. Of course the kids read those books and showed enthusiasm. I controlled the candy jar. Of course the public read my announcements. Those gems were read by parents asking "When and where is that play my kid is performing in?" But the thrill came from those judges who said, "This one's a winner."

Still, I want the thrill of discovering that a complete stranger has read my writing just for the pleasure of reading it. And here is this wonderful thing called "Blogging." Hope you like what you read here as I start writing stories again.


"Empty Nest" photograph courtesy of Tyrrell Photographic Collection, Powerhouse Museum.