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Rated: E · Essay · Experience · #1408358
Entry:"How Did YOU Become a Writer?"& "Authors Spotlight" entry
I stared at the piece of scrap paper my grandmother gave to me. On one side, there was a short list of items to purchase at the grocery store. All the items were crossed off except for one. The item that remained to be purchased was Oleo-Margarine. Evidently, the corner grocer's ran out of the product earlier that day.

I drew a picture of a kitten under that name. I do not know what possessed me to draw that cat when I saw the words Oleo-Margarine, but, I did. It was at that point that I turned the paper over and started writing about a stray cat. "I found a kitty and his name was Oleo," I believe that is how the story started coming to life. I was only a seven-year-old at the time, and my writing could better be described as "chicken scrawl.".

Years passed, and school work became more intense. My mother, a fierce saver of S&H Green Stamps, finally collected enough books to get an Olivetti-Underwood typewriter to ease our school paper burdens. In those days we were assigned themes that had to be typed before turned in for a grade.

Once the assigned theme was done, I found poking at the font keys pleasurable. It felt relaxing in some odd way I could not fathom back then. I had two brothers with no interest in typing, thus I was able to hog the family machine.

One day I started writing a story about a poor woman trying to escape the violence in the country she was visiting.  She had to dress in the veiled headscarves of the area, sneak onto a bus with the other women, and pretend to be a part of their meeting group. I dubbed this story "Today I Run--Yesterday Iran." Needless to say, the book never got finished. My thirteen-year-old schedule left little time for extra writing. There were just too many handsome friends of my brother at the house. They would tell me a pretty girl shouldn't waste her time playing on a typewriter. I liked the boys, so I put the typewriter back in the closet.

Life continued on, and college had me doing enough required writing to never have enough time for personal writing. Reading for relaxation became my greatest pastime. I never thought I would ever be a writer at that point. I envied the authors of the books I read.

Law school required an abundance of writing. I refused to get bored, thus, I began adding eloquent arguments to my papers and briefs. It became a challenge to out do myself with each new assignment. Moreover, I was able to use fewer words to describe the case assigned, and, those words needed to be chosen carefully to have the best impact.

Since those days of yore, I continued writing, making greeting cards, and helping family members with their writing projects. My fondest dream was that one day, I would complete a novel.

Folks, that day has arrived. One Monday evening, in July of last year, I finished my novel. (No, it was not the book I started writing when I was thirteen.) It was ten days later, that my membership on WDC began. I cannot imagine life without writing, or this inspirational place.

My name is Web Witch, and I am a writer.

563 words

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1408358