WRITING FOREVER

I have been having my writing groups do in-class writings on the first class of the month since we began the new semester. One of the assignments was to write about your writing--why you write, when you started, etc. Here is my 10-minute piece:

I might have been born a writer. I know I was born talking and making up stories. But my first story to share was written at age ten--up a mulberry tree, hiding from the call to chores.

I progressed to poetry instead of birthday cards. Then followed essays and more short stories. It seems I had to be writing, no matter what was happening around me. I still feel that way; want to share my thoughts, imagination, love for words, whether I get published or paid or not. Maybe that is why I am in front of you on Wednesday--because I want to share what I read, learn, and/or write.

When married the first time, I learned to hide my writing. It was a source of trouble in a failing marriage; the time, I was told, was better spent working, caring for my family, or running from him. Once my scribblings were found and destroyed, but I still wrote whenever possible--in secret.

No one can kill the desire to write. I've proven that. I think I would shrivel up and die a bitter, old woman without it. And I still love to share--even if I'm not good enough for a traditional publisher, I'll pay so others can read my work.

Recently, I received an email that I had won third prize in a national anthology contest. What an exhilarating feeling to know hundreds of others will read my work. But I got the same thrill when one of my student's first story was published, when another hit the big time in Highlights for Children, when another had a poem accepted and another was accepted by submitting a nostalgic piece. I feel that same surge of love for writing rise.

We all have to write if no one but God sees it.