An illness turned me from reader to writer
An illness turned me from reader to writer. And what an illness! While it slowly took my ability to walk, it gave me the perfect excuse to sit for hours and do nothing but read, write, and revise; it allowed me to pursue the writing passion of my heart. I was always one of those people who claimed he would write a book, but the excuses of life kept me from doing so. Money, vacations, children, friends, coaching, my business, and the damn lawn -- forever in need of a trim -- held my desire to write just out of reach, with all of my other someday hopes. That's when writing happened.
On January 1, 2006, I started writing seven days a week, from four in the morning until going off to work at a company I share ownership. I began with sixty-six daily practice writings, and I sent these via email to about 100 acquaintances. This taught me to write for readers. Today, I am now in my fourth year of writing early in the morning, and I have written those sixty-six daily writings, ten short stories, two full-length novels, and about eighty Writer and Writing Quote of the Day blog postings. I've actually said the words, "I am a writer." Even though I still work my day job, it is a lust to write that flows in my veins. I could no easier stop writing than I could stop breathing.
Back in my early thirties, after achieving Enrollment as an ERISA actuary, my wife gave me a leather bound set of the 100 greatest books ever written. I read all of them — minus the poetry — and a thousand other books just like them. The colliction is now beside my writing table, in tall bookcases with glass windows, and it looks down on me like a professor watching his student. How naive I must look to him!
I no longer walk without aid and, despite having written two novels, making the claim that I am a writer, and pursuing daily my passion for writing, I understand the impossibility of adding my book to my own bookshelf. So what!
At least I can place a great big check mark next my someday goal of writing. You should see my smile.
Steven R. Lundin