The Long Journey to Becoming a Writer - A Memoir
writing·@denmarkguy·
0.000 HBDThe Long Journey to Becoming a Writer - A Memoir
<html> <p> When I was seven years old, my mother bought me several blank unlined exercise books. </p> <p>It was her great hope that her young son would turn out to be artistic, and the purpose of the books was basically to see what would happen if I were allowed to "color outside the lines." </p> <h2><em>The Imaginary Worlds of a Child</em></h2> <p>As expected, it took me only a few weeks to fill those exercise books-- but I didn't fill them with <em>drawings</em>, I filled them with <em>words</em>; verbal pictures from the inside of my very lively imagination. </p> <p> <div class="pull-left"> <p><img src="http://i.imgur.com/ClhIT89.jpg" alt="Honeysuckle" /><br /> <em>Purple honeysuckle about to bloom</em></p> </div> </p> <p>Although those books are now long gone, I can still remember writing about my teddy bear's trip to the moon, and what it was like to live in our world if you were only the size of a bug. </p> <p>My mother was actually a bit disappointed, but she really should have known better: A couple years earlier, she'd helped me write my first book. Maybe it sounds a little absurd for a five-year old to write a book, so let me explain what <em>really</em> happened: I had grown bored with the simplistic nature of books for "children my age" and one day had the brilliant idea that I would just write my own. </p> <p>My mother had thought the whole thing to be "<em>cute,</em>" and agreed to be my typist- so a couple of afternoons a week we'd sit down and I'd tell the ongoing story of a baby elephant's life in the jungle, while my mother typed my words. At the end of the session, I'd make a drawing or two to go with that day's "episode," which was often a reflection of something that had happened at my kindergarten. </p> <p>We actually made it to page 68 before I grew bored... I might have reached the ripe old age of nine by the time I first started saying "<em>I want to write stories!</em>" in response to the age-old question "<em>What do YOU want to be, when you grow up?</em>" </p> <h2><em>That's really cute... but...</em></h2> <p> <div class="pull-right"> <p><img src="http://i.imgur.com/2igyHuu.jpg" alt="Daisy" /><br /> <em>Cabbage White butterfly leaving a daisy</em></p> </div> </p> <p>My parents thought it was "<em>quaint,</em>" but also hurried to tell people that it was a "<em>phase</em>" I would grow out of. </p> <p>I started journaling- <em>in earnest</em>- after my Aunt Ebba gave me a fountain pen for my tenth birthday. I was told it was a "<em>serious</em>" pen, so I started taking my writing "<em>seriously</em>," in spite of liberally spreading fountain pen ink onto many places it didn't belong. </p> <p>At first I recorded only the bare facts of what was happening around me, but eventually I added more and more of my personal commentary about what <em>"could"</em> have happened and what <em>"should"</em> have happened, as well as observations about people and the strange things they chose to do. I also started writing down some of my dreams, because they seemed so <em>far</em> more interesting than my life. </p> <h2><em>Writing as Therapy</em></h2> <p>Although I wasn't really<em> aware</em> of what I was doing at the time, writing was already serving me as a form of "<em>therapy.</em>" </p> <p> <div class="pull-left"> <p><img src="http://i.imgur.com/Ye0L42U.jpg" alt="Poker" /><br /> <em>"Red hot poker"</em></p> </div> </p> <p>My childhood was very unsettled; we moved frequently, I was an only child, my parents were growing increasingly apart and distant, my mother drifted in and out of alcoholism and prescription drug abuse... the words in my journals sometimes felt like the only things "solid" in a world dominated by uncertainty, emptiness and a lack of routine. </p> <p>I was maybe fourteen, the first time someone told me my writing was "good." At this point, my parents had divorced and I'd gone to live with my mom in the south of Spain, where we'd set up a new life with the man I'd eventually come to think of as my stepdad. I was attending an English language school and doing my best to switch my thinking from my native Danish to English and Spanish, and overall feeling deeply distressed and lost. </p> <p>Writing- alone in my room- was a small light in my darkness. </p> <p>And while most of my peers would moan and groan whenever we were assigned "<em>essay</em>" homework, such assignments always made me happy. My papers also made one of my teachers happy- and she encouraged me write more, once she'd moved past her initial surprise that English was my second language. I remember coming home to my mother and telling her that Mrs. Gomez thought I could be a writer. </p> <p>Sadly, mom's response was a less than encouraging <em>"That's nice, dear, but I don't think you can make a living doing that. You do want to make a living, don't you?"</em> </p> <h2><em>A Writer... Being a Non-Writer... Writing</em></h2> <p>Although I decided against pursuing writing as a career, I never stopped writing. I also never stopped thinking of myself as "a writer." </p> <p> <div class="pull-right"> <p><img src="http://i.imgur.com/g30WeHt.jpg" alt="PurpleClover" /><br /> <em>Purple clover in bloom</em></p> </div> </p> <p>However, it was not until my mid-30's I <em>accidentally</em> started writing "<em>for a living.</em>" </p> <p>Well... maybe not exactly a "<em>living,</em>" but at least professionally, for compensation. A friend with an art gallery wanted to publish a monthly newsletter to keep in touch with her customers but confessed that she'd "<em>always hated writing-</em>" an issue that seems to afflict a lot of people. </p> <p>So I offered to help. </p> <p>Somehow, one thing led to another, and soon I found myself creating newsletters, ad copy, radio advertising scripts and more for a number of local businesses. Within a couple of years, I had more or less "fallen" into the IT industry. making a living as a contract technical writer, succeeding because I seemed to understand the "languages" of both the programmer/nerds <em>and</em> management. </p> <p>At first, I felt a great sense of accomplishment because I was now actually <em>making a living</em> from writing. But it didn't take me long to recognize that I had turned myself into a "<em>shadow artist</em>" of sorts; writing other people's words, rather than my own. Yes, I <em>had</em> become "<em>a writer,</em>" but I wasn't writing <em>my</em> words. So one day, I quit... and went back to marketing and sales. </p> <h2><em>So We Go Forward... Because We Can't Go Back</em></h2> <p>I remain a writer. </p> <p> <div class="pull-left"> <p><img src="http://i.imgur.com/eDpSQ4a.jpg" alt="WhitePomPom" /><br /> <em>White pompom flower</em></p> </div> </p> <p>I never returned to my original desire to "write stories," because I discovered I was really not very good at <em>fiction</em>-- I find "<em>life</em>" to be far more interesting. </p> <p>But I write. </p> <p>Because I am a writer... and it feels like I always have been. When I was five, when I was seven, when I was fourteen, and today. Sometimes it feels like I don't have much of a "<em>choice</em>" in the matter-- I simply feel most comfortable with the written word, when communicating. And there are words inside me, and they have to get out. </p> <p>These days, I write pretty much what I want-- in my own voice. I'm pretty much done with writing for others, or to attempt to be "popular," or to please some editor I've never met. </p> <p>Sometimes I get paid for my writing, but I don't write <em>to</em> get paid. </p> <p>I find Steemit to be an awesome creative outlet because the community includes such a <em>wide</em> range of content creators with so many different interests... and that appeals to my sense of not wanting to be a "cookie cutter creator."</p> <p><em><strong>How about YOU?</strong></em> What's your story? Are you a writer? An artist? A musician? Is Steemit mostly a "creative outlet for you... or more of a social platform? Has Steemit changed how you approach content creation? Leave a comment-- share your experiences-- start the conversation!</p> <p><em>(As usual, all text and images by the author, unless otherwise credited. This is original content, created expressly for Steemit)</em></p> </html>
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