Author for Life – A Reminder

Author for Life – A Reminder
So, my 9-year-old daughter and I found some ancient history the other day. A stack of my old works. These range from when I was 10-years-old through 14-years-old. That’s early to mid 80’s folks. Some are close to disintegrating, but she has begun to read them – carefully. It’s kind of awesome listening to your kid read something you wrote.

Just as I was doubting myself, as I do, we pulled out the old briefcase from its storage place under her bed. It has travelled with me for many years from house to house, left wholly untouched. I’ve had it since I was a young man. It was in this worn leather briefcase we found many of my old sketches and – Holy S*%t – books! We excitedly pulled them out of the briefcase and I reviewed the dates. These weren’t antiques by any stretch, but they were up to 37-years-old! Vintage? LOL. Maybe just to me.

This treasure chest of old books from my childhood instilled a sense of wonder in my daughter and nostalgia in me. But not just glassy-eyed nostalgia for the past, but rather hope for the future. My future. That I’ve been writing stories and physically creating books since I was ten offers tangible proof that I was meant to do this. Have I met my 10,000 hours doing what I love yet? God, I hope so!

Upon further investigation into the magical briefcase, aside from the books, we realize I have literally dozens of comic books with multiple superheroes and villains running through advanced storylines I created from age 12 to 17. I also wrote screenplays for my brothers and our friends, many of which were realized through my father’s video camera and friend’s surprising editing abilities. To say I’ve been creative my whole life is a truth I often forget during my 9-5 day job.  Perhaps my daughter will enjoy the comics as well. She loves graphic novels…

My Grandfather too was a writer, hopeful to emerge from his management role in an utterly unrelated industry. He was a playwright mostly. I’m told community theatres and churches worked with my grandfather to produce his plays. How fitting my books sat in his briefcase all these years. I think I’ll look for his scripts next. Maybe they’re in the briefcase…

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