My writing is accidental. Several years ago with time on my hands. I decide to practice my penmanship. I wrote whatever crossed my mind. My comedy of errors turn into funny poems, serious poems and short stories. My mind runs "amuck".
At this point in my life I'm working the late, later shift. One day I cannot sleep as I go from days to nights, it takes some getting use to. A story takes shape, the complete story line plays itself out, only after several hours was I able to to get some much needed sleep. The story came from an apartment on top of a newspaper office here in Indiana. My brother was a pressman so he gives me a tour one day. The apartment has not been lived in for a long, long time obviously to me by the 50's look. I title it "The Flame"
Remembering proper grammar while attempting writing at age 50 is a monumental task( believe me ). It's been many moons since English Class,( my most feared class ). Ironic as I love reading.
My wife recently purchased a new computer, she convinces me to practice typing with her old one. I have nothing better to do as it's January. Especially since I work the graveyard shift I cannot sleep at night and nothing on the "Boob tube". Didn't take long to realize that a smart chicken could out peck me. I'm know trying my hand at typing and learning the most basic functions of the computer. ( your probably saying, where have you been man ). "Okay" better late than never. My writing although elementary use to be fun, not anymore. I don't need this ????! What once was fun has become a pain in the ??? ( I'm trying not to write cuss words, even though I use them ). Out of disgust and before I have a heart attack, I give up.
Every now and then the urge would surface, then I would remember the keyboard snarling at me and the computer laughing in my face. This last about 4 years.
My good buddy Timster over at "HOW DARE I" starts a blog. He tells me how much fun it is. There is one story I must write before I can move on. I hand write this story. He post it on his blog, the fire returns. The fire became one candle flicker when I think "KEYBOARD". The computer's brought out of moth balls with renewed passion. I work through the frustration and type the story that robbed my sleep years before. After 10,000 words the computer goes "wacko", I believe the new terminology is "CRASHED". I have spent countless hours of learning and the computer and it has a heart attack, ( is my writing that bad ). I still have my original hand written version but not my new and improved version that was devoured by the memory monsters of Hewie Packard, more appropriate would be "The Pac-Man From Hell". My renewed vigor is now a flat line. Ah! don't feel sorry for me after pouting for a couple of weeks I purchase my very own as soon as you leave the store obsolete computer. Wow! I'm connected to the internet, the world is at my fingertips. I've just bought a Cadillac but can't leave the garage because I don't know how to control it. I am making progress rewriting my story that has taking me a lifetime, many pencils and one computer.
Timster wants me to start a blog. Huh!, it's been 3 months since the fire returned, I believe my response was "I have just stepped out of the dark ages with one foot into the modern world learning how to type and navigate my first computer". He sends a email to a "idiot male", listing step by step instructions how to create my blog. (Appeared as though he typed it in Russian). I could not make heads nor tails out of it. I'm supposed to open my own blog, (yeah right)! He expects a a computer dummy to open a gmail account. When my first email was the day before yesterday. My mind goes into a self-preservation mode, flashing alert!alert!, "REBOOT",REBOOT". ( I need someone to boot my ??? ) to get save me.
Please excuse me I'm trying to keep this short but I'm in my late fifties. If I don't write what I'm thinking when I think it, I might go to the bathroom and forget my thinking.
I can know type a coherent sentence, (well I'll let you be the judge of that), without any red or green underlining on my "Hewie Screen".
Timster tells me in person how to open my own blog on gmail. I regress, he has been around computers forever and is a Engineer from California. I was once a Supervisor at a factory that made the Apple Computer Housings. Those being the very early personal computers. I ask him the other day "when you was explaining in person, did you not see that deer caught in the headlight look I was giving you". You know what "The Timster" did, he opens a blog for me. What a pal!, What a pal!
Now I'm fretting, what to put on it! I search back through some of my favorite stories and put on ( sorry ) post, Max and the Ohio".
I'm trying to complete my long short story "The Flame". I was almost finished so I thought! I read the first half and am unhappy. I want to make it a Christmas gift for my family, I rewrite the first half and need only to rewrite the finale. Guess what? I cannot bring myself to end the story, too many years of blood, sweat, tears, heart aches, broken pencils, keyboard nightmares, computer crashes. I end the story at chapter six, entitled "Family".
My compute is still alive, I'm slowly improving on the keyboard. What I have accomplished since April of this year seems impossible as I reminisce while writing this post. I wish to thank my wife for her patience in helping an old dog learn new tricks. Timster for giving me a shot of adrenalin when I needed it and without him opening my blog, it is highly possible this might not be.
Writing gives me a rush and is keeping my mind active, as my body is wearing out. I ask you to please overlook my errors as I strive to improve. My imagination along with the written word has saved me more than once. My favorite characters will come to life as I write new stories like "The Legend of Bill Lee Hill". I'm considering a new short story and posting it as I create it. Greenville/Greedville is the title. It has been locked up in my attic too long. I don't know where this journey will take me however I intend to enjoy it to the fullest. There was no T.V. in my house until I was around 14. Once I learn to read my imagination blossomed. Many years later my imagination must be satisfied another way. I hope you enjoy your time on Glen View.