I Call Myself a Writer in Introduction

For years… No - forever, I have been interested in writing. I started young - maybe even four - learning to print my own name and the alphabet, before I even went into Kindergarten. I wanted to put my signature on my drawings, I remember, and I asked my mother if she would show me how to print my name. I enjoyed being able to do that but didn’t want to stop there, so I asked her to write the alphabet for me. I copied it until I knew every letter, then started trying to make words with them. She would giggle at some of my attempts - wish I remembered some specific phonetic tries - and some she would marvel that I cracked the code.
When I made it to Kindergarten, I was in awe of that curly shit she was using to write her lists, sign checks, etc. So I asked for some help, and she showed me how to write in cursive handwriting. How many of you even know what cursive is or use it today? I hate it that it’s a dying art, the end of an era.
Goddamn technology.
I picked up on the curly shit, and was encouraged by my Kindergarten teacher to immediately stop. She said that my classmates weren’t ready for cursive and when I used it, it was stifling to them, or something like that. I stopped at school, but continued at home, and was writing goofy little stories about my crush on the paperboy and my best friend’s parents’ Shiny New Car in my free time.
In Kindergarten through third grade, you have a lot of free time.
The stories kept coming, and my mother was the proud recipient of such crap as “Bubbles the Puppy” (a dog who didn’t want to take a bath), and ” Barbie’s Bunny” (my friend with the parents with the sweet ride and her pet rabbit). I wrote some real gripping shit, I tell ya.
I kept writing, from journals to short stories, to the four novels-in-progress I’m writing today. When I first discovered online journaling ( I think my first was Open Diary), I was hesitant.
“I could let strangers read my stuff,” I thought. “I could let people I don’t even know judge me, give their opinions on what I have to say,” I said to myself. Then I said, “So what? I’m going to write, and I’m going to meet other people who love to write just as much as I do!” And I did it… I created my first account online, and wrote some entries that I no doubt would be completely embarrassed to read today!
Then OD, for whatever reason that I cannot recall, was no longer a viable online option for me. I think it was something technical, but for the life of me, I don’t remember. A fellow OD journalist told me he was going to be writing at a site called Digital Expressions, and that I should check it out, because the community there was more of what we were looking for - passionate writers, people with stories, people who, well, were a community.
It was home. I’m not even shitting you - from the beginning, DE was HOME.
And I think you know the rest. For years, I laughed with these people, cried with these people,. shared victories and defeats. We lost journaling friends and grieved and mourned and miss these people TO THIS DAY. We’ve made friends for life, met in the flesh, talked for hours on the telephone, sent cards, gifts, and just … well, loved each other the way friends do. It’s a hard thing to say goodbye to a place which birthed so many incredible memories as well as hosted them. But I don’t want to look at this entry - my first of what will be many, hopefully, as a goodbye to our beloved DE. I want to look at this as a new chapter, with some interesting new characters, new plot twists, and a highly anticipated sequel.
So, with that, I would like to say, hey there, I’m VC, and I’m happy to meet ya.