It was a three-paragraph article I had written when I was in third grade about the sun. It was published in our school newsletter as the best story that month. I stood holding that yellow mimeographed piece of paper in my hands that mother had carefully preserved for nearly 50 years. I can remember the excitement in the household. You would have thought I'd won a Pulitzer or been published in the New Yorker. People called saying how much they liked the article.
I think that was when I wanted to be a writer. Seeing my words in print next to my name and knowing that people I didn't even know were reading them was an exhilarating feeling. It would be another 12 years before I would be paid for something I wrote, and another 50 before I had a novel accepted for publication, but along the way I've had fun writing everything from magazine articles, to newspaper stories to short stories, plays, radio drama and even a video documentary or two.
Still, I am not sure any of those accomplishments will compare to that moment when I found that carefully preserved piece of paper among my mother's things.
|To be Released February 2011|