How I Came to Writing

         I was at my first duty station in the Marine Corps on Okinawa when I realized that I wanted to be a writer.  For a long time I knew that I had some small measure of talent for it.  I had taken journalism and creative writing classes while in high school.  I performed reasonably well in these classes despite the lazy attitude and  directionless demeanor that characterized that part of my life.  Still I had no idea what I wanted to do for a living.  That's one of the primary contributors to my joining the service in the first place.
         While at work one day, I had mouthed off to one of my superiors.  It was not an uncommon thing for me to do, and I can't even remember what the subject of my insubordination was at this time.  As a "creative" punishment for my inability to keep my damn mouth shut, I was to write a 1,000 word essay on insubordination and why it's a bad thing.  It was to be presented in two days time.
         When I got back to my barracks room, I found myself unusually charged and, dare I say, eager to get started on this assignment.  Instead of turning on my roommates X-box or trying to find someone willing to buy beer for me (I was only 19 at the time), I grabbed my notebook and began to fervently scribble down an outline.  In quick blurbs I scribed for myself what ideas to begin with, personal and historical examples to use, and what further research I would need to do to fill those examples in.
         After some more outlining and some rough drafting, I headed down to the internet station at the USO.  It didn't take long on the internet to fill in any research gaps that I needed, and within four hours I had a revised, spell checked, final copy to present at work tomorrow.
         Upon returning to my room, I couldn't help but speculate further on this matter.  It almost seemed to me like I had enjoyed this supposed punishment.  This idea was a source of some chagrin for me since that was probably the opposite of what my superior wanted.  What he intended for this was to consume my precious free time making a composing thoughts and ideas against a behavior that I had repeatedly shown comfort and familiarity with.  It is possible that he was trying to open my eyes to how what I was doing was wrong and to broaden my horizons, but military discipline is hardly so benevolent, and frankly, I didn't credit him with that much cleverness.
         After giving the essay a day early to a somewhat surprised Gunnery Sergeant, I still found myself pondering why I had risen so enthusiastically to this task.  I don't even know if he ever bothered to read it and to be honest, I don't really care.  What I did care about was that I had contributed my time, thought, and creativity to an endeavor and was proud of the final result.  The idea hit me and soaked in as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.  I can do this for a living.
         That day was very important for me.  It was what led me to later start keeping a journal.  I started reading more voraciously than before, storming my way through Kerouac, Rollins, Palahnuik, and Thompson.  In moments of even greater self confidence, I even dabbled in poetry writing.  I knew then that realizing that I wanted to write wasn't in itself an answer, but I do know that it got me started asking the right questions of myself.  I'm still asking myself a lot of those same questions, and a lot more have arisen since then, but at least now I know where I can start finding some answers.