I remember the day I learned to read.
You know that sudden click when the penny drops.
Books have always been by very best friend.
The magic of being in the story.
Knowing the characters.
The sadness of finishing a book.
Writing was much the same.
My father wasn’t the best.
But I’m thankful he taught me to write.
He gave me an old jotter.
A thick pencil.
Wrote my name at the top of the page .
I copied it and copied it.
Then my address
My dog’s name.
Then a sentence I’d ask him to write.
This was before I started school.
It was magic
I could write,and I did.
I have never stopped.
English was my favourite subject at junior school.
I remember the teacher giving us a subject in creative writing and within minutes I’d be lost in the story that had began to bake in my head.
I’d write about anything and everything.
I remember writing about the starlings.
I lived backing onto the woods on a huge council estate
There were always hundreds of starlings they would swarm all flying together in a squarking fluid like black cloud.
I’d stand on the shed roof to watch.
Hundreds of birds together.
Almost moving as one huge cloud.
How did they do it.
I imagined their leader calling out to his tribe their were ranks.
Everyone of them had a job.
All looking after each other.
They weren’t the prettiest of birds or the biggest but I loved them.
The teacher loved it she asked if she could keep it.
I was a shy eleven year old.
Blushed and nodded.
Mrs Moore I was so happy.
She was a wonderful teacher who inspired me throughout my school years.
Diary’s note pads, poems.
Lists I wrote everything down.
I wrote when I was happy, sad, mad, upset or lost.
I think it’s because writing gives me a way to work things out?
Does that make sense?
Words are easier for me when they fall out of a pen or a key board.
Although since loosing my best friend nursing her through cancer.
Ive written about my journey through bereavement hoping it will help others.
I’ve also discovered voice note.
I talk to her and record it.
I need to find a way to add it to my blog.
So where and why did you start your blogging journey?
Could you live without writing.
I definitely couldn’t.
Pen paper and blogs are my friend, counselor and confidant.