another day closer
I don't remember the first thing I wrote. Probably because I've been making up stories since before I even knew how to write them down. My parents used to talk about my imaginary friends and my elaborate tales, and flights of fancy. Thank goodness they've reached the age where they've forgotten all about those and moved on to other embarrassing memories. I'm sure the first several (hundred) stories I wrote were silly and ridiculous. I say that only because the first few I do remember were. Hell, I still venture into the silly and ridiculous from time to time.
My significant other (also known as the IDP, or Imaginary Dead President for those of you out of the loop) likes to tease me about living in an alternate universe...the place I spend most of my time. I try to rationalize it as a writer's prerogative, but maybe I am just weird. Hey, if I am, so what. I'm a writer.
Basically, I've always been a writer. It's more than what I do, it's who I am. And in just a few more days (four if you're keeping track) for the first time since those first goofy stories, I'm going to see one in print...with my name in bold letters across the bottom. My book.
Come Monday, it's gonna feel pretty damn good. I can't wait to write all about it.
Until the next time...I'll be looking forward to my last weekend as an unpublished author.