Today’s #bloganuary prompt asks “what does my writing mean to me?”
It sounds overly dramatic, but my writing means literally everything to me. I really can’t remember a time when writing wasn’t an important part of my life.
From the time I was a very young teen–12 or 13–I began writing narrative stories. Some of these stretched hundreds of hand-written pages.
I minored in creative writing in college, with short story as the form I chose there. And I continued writing for the rest of my life. I wrote the short stories and narratives well into my 40s.
But I also was writing for work–professional articles, articles in trade publications, articles in our local newspapers about misunderstood legal topics.
Finally I changed careers and turned my “other hobby ” into a job for a time. I began to write for a local glossy magazine as their garden columnist. I started this blog. I wrote newsletters for my garden center.
And then I changed careers again–but I am still writing. This time it’s an even more frequent weekly update for my churches. And of course I still blog and write my garden column.
So writing has been a literal half-century adventure for me. Needless to say, it is one of the things that defines who I am.