How did you begin writing?
I’ve always thought my path to
becoming a writer wasn’t normal, but recently, I’ve begun to wonder if there is
such a thing as typical in a writer’s
life. Truth is, my inner child shudders whenever I answer this question.
Because I know the exact moment I
became a writer.
If there is such a thing as normal in a writer’s life, then I’m
certain this doesn’t qualify. I vaguely remember writing stories as a child. I
pitter-pattered all night long on my keyboard that was attached to a big, boxy,
cream-colored monitor. I wrote more stories than I can remember. I’m sure of
this, even though I never shared them with anyone. Some were flash fiction
pieces set in the realms of my favorite television shows or movies. Some were
longer. Some helped me to understand the world and the struggles I had been
facing.
But that’s not when I became a
writer. A real writer. That wasn’t
the moment. Every writer knows the one. That moment of pure clarity. The moment
where you fall in love with something, someone. The moment that caused the
dominos to fall.
It all started with a movie.
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