I’ve Always Been A Writer… Except When I Wasn’t

Let’s get away from politics for at least today.

I have always been a dreamer making up stories about where I would be in my life xx years in the future. Those early dreams spanned from being a Van Gogh suicide all the way to being famous like John Steinbeck or Jack London (Will Rogers would be added a little later).

My college years pretty much snuffed out my writing ambitions except for a couple of courses in English Composition where I excelled. In the engineering curriculum I was in there was just no writing except in the objective third-person narrative. (i.e. “this was done…)

My earnings years were just too filled up with this and that to give me enough time to write. In other words, I was having a conventional adult life consumed by work that kept me away from my dreams of being a writer.

It was not until my “Being” years that writing become front-and-center in my life. For those who haven’t had an opportunity to read my post about “Learning/Earning/Being” click here. I have kept a journal for the last 50 years but that was about all my only literary itinerary at that time. In 2007, I started my first blog and have not looked back since then. Being a blogger is finally the fulfillment of my lifetime dreams of being a writer. I know I will never get the notoriety of Steinbeck but that is ok, the insatiable desire to be a writer was never based on fame or money.

I think at its most basic level I use writing as a way of not feeling so alone, but a small part of me no doubt enjoys that it continues to keep me in that very state. My deafness and Aspie related bluntness usually make terrible first-impressions, so there were not many second chances of deep relationships. But, really, I do enjoy my own company and feel at peace with myself when I can sit down with my keyboard and write about my view of the world. I don’t know if I developed that mentality by choice or necessity, but it is what it is.

At a more fundamental level there is no way of knowing if I could have been a successful writer earlier in my life. What if I had the courage to go down that path as an initial career? There is no way of knowing if I could have fulfilled my dreams of being the next John Steinbeck. I had the dreams but, as usual, not the ambition to carry them out. A big part of RJsCorner is that I write about my failures as much as my accomplishments. I kinda think those lessons about failure are more important than the successes. So many people have the fire to do something they love but for one reason or another never persevered long enough to accomplish them.

I know I am not alone in this failure to do the work to make dreams happen. There are probably millions of other people who were nearly the same. I just thank the Lord that he allowed this passion to linger under the surface until it was ready to blossom in my later years. Maybe I can use it to help someone else to follow their dreams without the fifty-year delay that I had?

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