Fiction Writing

I never contemplated writing a story until I had one to tell. This happened about eight years ago when a windfall of scientific data landed on my lap. Privy to a big, big story—a secret I thought the world should know—I felt compelled to write “When Water Flows Uphill”.

Whenever I write, I have to be alone, and the space has to be quiet. Then I become absorbed while hours pass like minutes. In addition to writing, I read novels and magazines. My mother majored in journalism, and I think her love of good reporting rubbed off on me. Nothing grabs hold like a skillful editor’s letter that inspires a read from cover to cover.

I may be missing out on a lot of things, but writing now bears my name. For me, it’s a wonderful obsession that brings serenity and obliterates my troubles. It’s a contest. It’s an opportunity. It’s a chance each day to outshine what I wrote yesterday. However, I must be mindful, for with writing comes the caution not to look up one day and be startled by my age.

PEACE