I'm in my forties now, still devilishly charming and completely single. Nothing to feel sorry about by any means. The journey has been fun and the "travel guides", I have loved along the way have made the journey all the more exciting throughout the years.
Today I enjoy my freedoms. I love it when there is company, and adore it when there's not. As a writer who's head seemingly just fills with words for no apparent reason and which needs empty every week, sometimes daily, I have occasions when I relish companionship so as to make sense of certain subjects swirling around the vast chasms within the cavity sitting upon my shoulders and other times when the solitude and loneliness are needed so as to simply get it all written down.
My own parents are perhaps the most surprised at my writing life. I left school at age 13, I stopped studying the year earlier. I read my first non-educational book, a real novel at the age of 20. I wrote essays in high school, but the majority of the words where merely my fathers. I cheated, and he got the good grades.
The only reason I read my first book at 20 , was due to guilt. I actually wrote a book at the age of 19 and was lucky to have it published. ( ah ha, even then I used a pseudonym so good luck finding it !) And as a published 19 year old I was scared of the first press tour I would do. I had read many interviews with other authors and everyone of them had been asked ,"what is your favorite book" or "what book can one find on your night stand." To which my reply would have been, none!
And so I read "The Neverending Story".
My parents got a laugh out of the title, because even then they knew it would never get finished- thus it truly was - never ending.
Mid twenties I found myself working for News Corporation and having the wondrous luck of the mentor BOB HART. One of the wittiest writers and most amazing Editors I have ever met. When he asked me to write for the Sunday Mail/Courier Mail he initially asked me to type my work and submit on Mondays. ( I miss typewriters and carbon paper) On Wednesdays we would sit together and correct the piece . For months it looked like a bleeding mess, so full of red lines and notations I found it hard to read when we were done. Eventually I learnt his art. Coma's, full stops, grammatical corrections, sentence and paragraph formation. He was a wizard and I fell under his literary spell.
He made me read. I initially found John Grisham, later a slew of other writers. These books I completed. and I was hooked. Not just on reading but on writing also.
Many of my own books followed, a dozen or so actually. Eventually newspapers, magazines and Op-eds, interviews and personal pieces too.
Even between countries I found small amounts of work, writing. I travelled much, still do to this day. And I write about the experiences, the cultures and the memories of wondrous times, friends and events.
... GOOD THINGS COME TO THOSE WHO WAIT.. is a perfect example of this, Montevideo, Uruguay..a stunning city in a country rarely spoken of, and yet a singular day in this city and a momentary experience with Alfredo, my taxi driver, is a memory which will last with me forever and forever reduce me to tears when I remember his tenacity and love for the vision he saw before him, rather than the rubble that stood at his feet.
Today in my mid-forties, I adore the written word more than ever. Am I good at writing? I don't know. Many people read the words, some people correspond, many enjoy it , others merely mumble hushed comments of disapproval. Best to suggest that I am an artist in learning.
For me, I love the work. I adore the freedoms of being able to put a smile on peoples faces with a witty insight into the every day. A comment about our childhoods, a challenge of the new techno world we live in or a simple column about love.
Over the coming blogs, I will attempt to write a weekly insight into my world. I'll post some of the columns that have been published and I will tease you with paragraphs of the dozen or so novels which have been started and yet not finished. Retirement is a ways off yet, but already it is looking busy.
Thanks for stopping by and reading the words of The Scribe. It is an honor to be read and one that is not taken lightly. We all have busy lives, and I am appreciative of the time you will spend stopping by infrequently and reading my posts.
Today I enjoy my freedoms. I love it when there is company, and adore it when there's not. As a writer who's head seemingly just fills with words for no apparent reason and which needs empty every week, sometimes daily, I have occasions when I relish companionship so as to make sense of certain subjects swirling around the vast chasms within the cavity sitting upon my shoulders and other times when the solitude and loneliness are needed so as to simply get it all written down.
My own parents are perhaps the most surprised at my writing life. I left school at age 13, I stopped studying the year earlier. I read my first non-educational book, a real novel at the age of 20. I wrote essays in high school, but the majority of the words where merely my fathers. I cheated, and he got the good grades.
The only reason I read my first book at 20 , was due to guilt. I actually wrote a book at the age of 19 and was lucky to have it published. ( ah ha, even then I used a pseudonym so good luck finding it !) And as a published 19 year old I was scared of the first press tour I would do. I had read many interviews with other authors and everyone of them had been asked ,"what is your favorite book" or "what book can one find on your night stand." To which my reply would have been, none!
And so I read "The Neverending Story".
My parents got a laugh out of the title, because even then they knew it would never get finished- thus it truly was - never ending.
Mid twenties I found myself working for News Corporation and having the wondrous luck of the mentor BOB HART. One of the wittiest writers and most amazing Editors I have ever met. When he asked me to write for the Sunday Mail/Courier Mail he initially asked me to type my work and submit on Mondays. ( I miss typewriters and carbon paper) On Wednesdays we would sit together and correct the piece . For months it looked like a bleeding mess, so full of red lines and notations I found it hard to read when we were done. Eventually I learnt his art. Coma's, full stops, grammatical corrections, sentence and paragraph formation. He was a wizard and I fell under his literary spell.
He made me read. I initially found John Grisham, later a slew of other writers. These books I completed. and I was hooked. Not just on reading but on writing also.
Many of my own books followed, a dozen or so actually. Eventually newspapers, magazines and Op-eds, interviews and personal pieces too.
Even between countries I found small amounts of work, writing. I travelled much, still do to this day. And I write about the experiences, the cultures and the memories of wondrous times, friends and events.
... GOOD THINGS COME TO THOSE WHO WAIT.. is a perfect example of this, Montevideo, Uruguay..a stunning city in a country rarely spoken of, and yet a singular day in this city and a momentary experience with Alfredo, my taxi driver, is a memory which will last with me forever and forever reduce me to tears when I remember his tenacity and love for the vision he saw before him, rather than the rubble that stood at his feet.
For me, I love the work. I adore the freedoms of being able to put a smile on peoples faces with a witty insight into the every day. A comment about our childhoods, a challenge of the new techno world we live in or a simple column about love.
Over the coming blogs, I will attempt to write a weekly insight into my world. I'll post some of the columns that have been published and I will tease you with paragraphs of the dozen or so novels which have been started and yet not finished. Retirement is a ways off yet, but already it is looking busy.
Thanks for stopping by and reading the words of The Scribe. It is an honor to be read and one that is not taken lightly. We all have busy lives, and I am appreciative of the time you will spend stopping by infrequently and reading my posts.
Wishing you all the very best
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