Someone once said to me that when she got pregnant she noticed that there were more pregnant women than ever before and wondered if there was a sudden epidemic of pregnancy.
I have now come across a similar epidemic, that of people writing. They are writing their websites, books, short stories, poems, a novel, memoir and whatever else pours out of their imaginations. Most share the dream of being published and read by a wider audience. I count myself amongst them.
I have held a pen, pencil, biro and any other writing implement I can clutch between my fingers to attack virginal pages with outpouring of my perceived inner creative genius that at times is also an ideas pauper.
Way back then, I wrote songs, one miraculously became a huge hit song which has followed my down the years and surprises me that some people still remember and the odd radio jock plays on the airwaves. For several years thats what I was, a songwriter with several more songs recorded and hit the airwaves.
I always felt compelled to write something, I have folders full of what I call my scribblings, lying asleep in dark corners of my cupboards, forgotten words and ideas that I felt had to be written without thought of their final outcome. It was more a journey than an objective.
Along with all my scribbling came the endless diary heart wrenching outpourings of whatever stood between me and my perfect life. I wrote more lyrics, observations of life, people and whatever my eyes or thoughts rested on in their endless pursuits of my curiosity and musing about what a peculiar planet we inhabit.
I stopped for a while when I got married, husbands can have that effect and then the writing resumed with colorful curses towards my disappointing ex.
Still the pen flowed, the typewriter clacked, some articles got published whilst here are a couple of volumes were waiting to be born.
The practicalities of my varied careers demanded promotion material to be written for myself and people that I nurtured so I composed brochures to entice a buying public. Later came the speeches and more diaries of emotional catharsis the pages of my personal journeys.
Short stories invaded my electric typewriter to find their way into odd publications until one day I began to write a memoir, oh no, not another memoir but it was not so much about me but my incredibly interesting colourful and talented partner and our challenging journey together.
My original little boxy black and white computer grew up to become a sophisticated mac desktop and now lightweight mac Air.
I am returning to the memoir whilst waiting for publishers to respond to what was to be a ‘quickie’ sexy funny novel that was motivated by the badly written, humungously popular “Fifty Shades of you-know-what.” Sitting alongside me either in my little office or my faourite café, has been my little furry friend who has been nosing his way through an anthology of productive doggy tails, I bet he sniffs out a publisher before I do.
That’s my story about writing and I realize that write because I have to. Whats your story?
I would love to have this blog available for you share your writing history.