I’ve been writing for most of my life.
If I remember correctly, my first attempt at writing a novel was at an incredibly young age. My mother was a diner waitress, and she was on the over night shift. I remember not wanting to go to sleep, and instead I waited patiently for her to come home by sitting down with a spiral bound notebook and a pen and writing out a story. No index cards, no story arc, and definately pretty plotless.
I think it had something to do with a group of kids trying to escape a killer amoungst them on some deserted island. Honestly, I don’t remember too much about it, except I know I got quite a few pages into it, and I think I ended up distracting myself from finishing it by drawing illustrations for the story in the margins.
Speaking of distractions, I don’t remember where I was going with this, so I’ll end it here with my original point.
Samples of my writing are now available and free to read on Scribd. If you’re active there, come and say hi. I’m pretty friendly.
