Write All The Time

SOMEWHERE ON THE CANADIAN BORDER-My passion for writing was as unexpected as most of the events in my life. It was also one of the earlier ones.
When I was in high school, it was the age of the tv western. I watched them religiously, usually with my dad, who dreamed of traveling in the American west when he retired, something he never got to do. But that's another story.
My group of friends were just as addicted to tv westerns as most teenage girls are to boys.
Okay, we watched the westerns because we thought cowboys were cool and the actors were cute.
Anyway, one morning one of my friend started telling us about this wild dream she had the night before, where we were all part of the plot in one of our favorite programs. Somebody said, "We aught to write this down." Somebody did-me.
Needless to say, I got my first editorial experience. Everybody in the group had to have their input, progress reports, etc., and there were the usual squabbles of artistic difference. One of them was the fact that dreams, even long ones, just don't last that long, and often end without, well, ending. So, I began to flesh it out and finish the story. By that time, my friends had lost interest. But I had unknowingly discovered an obsession that still has an iron clad hold on me after thirty years.
If you find yourself continuing to visit this blog, you're bound to hear some of the stories of my career journalism, and all the stuff I've written, both on paper and electronically. But don't be surprised if you find I've written about something entirely different. I'm told I've led an interesting life. See if you agree. You'll also find that I'm very opinionated, but keep in mind that I am also a sarcastic smart ass. And even though I consider the internet a very public place, there still remains the tentative anonymity that allows us all to turn loose of the inner beast so that it may speak.