I can’t think of a time when I didn’t know I was a writer.
That doesn't mean I've had a long, glorious career as a journalist or author. I paid my dues. My first job was as a file clerk; I lasted three months. Since that time I've been a 911 operator and police dispatcher, even an office manager. But some encouraging words many years ago gave me the confidence to screw up my courage and set out to see if a buck or two could be earned by being a wordsmith.
I became one of the lucky ones -- I found people who believed in me and was fortunate to finally earn a living through my words. I started as a freelance journalist, landed an unpaid but enjoyable gig as a food columnist, even became an editor with, gasp, a salary. Rare in the writing world. I’ve gone full circle and am back to freelancing. I like that there’s no commute and no dress code. I don’t like the lack of a steady paycheque.
My intent with this section was to fill it with travel journals, previously published articles, plus new stuff. But that all just seems so ... formal. Those things may yet appear here, but for now I'm going to express myself on my new blog. Please stop by eat write create and have a look.
