I ‘ve been writing ever since I was little. In fact since before I could write in the sense of holding a pen or pencil and making intelligible marks on paper. I used to make up stories and if I were lucky I’d get my kind auntie to write them out for me. I don’t know if she edited them at all. Probably not. It was only the two of us who ever read my works so a few errors or spelling or punctuation would hardly be important.
I scribbled stories and diaries throughout my childhood and adolescence and into adult life. Prompted by this set piece of work , I looked out one of my journals from 20+ years ago. Surprised at how much I was doing at that period. A part time job -one I really enjoyed with interesting and pleasant colleagues, a fair amount of writing for our local WI and the Arts Centre Newsletter, quite a bit of cycling too. I’ve got one journal entry where I am complaining that I want to ride in preference to walking to the end of the road and waiting for a bus. How different things were then!
As always I kept telling myself to write and keep on writing , at least a page a day etc…etc. and sent items off to competitions. What has changed? Very little!