I remember being young and dreaming of being a grown up and everything I thought that meant. I loved the idea of being a writer. What kind of writer be would depend on how old I was at the time. A writer of books. A political journalist. A sports writer. Really, I was all over the place. I could imagine, too, living in cities like Boston, Seattle, Chicago...
Now, here I am. My childhood dreams have given way to grown up reality. I'm not a writer...not in the way I used to daydream about. But, in the grand scheme, I am not THAT old. In probability, I have a lot of life to live. And I have started to nurture that love of words and stories and ideas again...and I am enjoying putting them on paper...or computer screen, I guess. As I work, I feel the ideas and the joy bubble up. It's never too late to follow your dreams.
1 comment:
So, at this age what kind of writer would it be?
I totally know where youre coming from(and being the writer you put the feeling into words so much better then I could!). I always wanted to "create" things for a living, get paid to paint, sew, scrapbook, anything. Neither of are too old to find a way to do what we love!
--Carole
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