Posted July 11, 2011on:
My guest blogger today is Yvonne Pont. She shares a wonderful little story about writing. How writers get started is always fascinating.
by Yvonne Pont
Two and a half years ago, I wrote an assignment titled “I —– Writer” for my creative writing course. Jane Austen was a writer. Charles Dickens, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie were also writers. I am a writer. The difference is, they are all famous and unfortunately quite dead. Being famous and dead doesn’t cut it for me, at least not for the next forty years. Albeit, I could live with the famous part of the equation.
Time is marching on. If I’m going to fulfill my dream, I best stop daydreaming and put my thoughts to paper. It’s not that the hand guiding the pen hasn’t had lots of practice over the years. There have been innumerable reports for the car club’s newsletter (very creative ones, if I do say so), unorthodox minutes leaving the members in stitches, and handwritten Christmas letters created especially for the reader. Of course, I must not forget school days when many a story, poem or play produced substance for the hungry eyes of the teacher. In fact, one such story saw print in the high school newspaper.
“Nickelodeon” was my most ambitious project. Over a period of eighteen months, I composed and wrote, in chronological order, the life and times of my husband and I through pictures, music, advertisements, events and stories. To make this project even more intriguing, it had to be done in secret. It was my present to my husband for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Talk about deception, I never thought I had it in me. Every little family detail was procured behind his back. Not a scrap of paper remained behind as evidence of my deceptive ways. The amazing thing occurred, in spite of his very observant and curious nature, he never caught on to his wife’s secret love affair. Creative juices flowed with such intensity, I could not have been more alive. I loved every moment of it. You might say, I dabbled in children stories, trials of teenage years, young love, romance, travel, intrigue, mystery, sports, music, history, politics, etc., etc. One of the definitions of nickelodeon is an early movie theatre, which costs a nickel. —- Is life not a movie theatre? So, I put in my five cents worth.
Thanks to my husband for suggesting I take this creative writing course, thus giving me a well needed push in the right direction. Thanks to my teacher, Ed for opening the flood gates to allow the creative juices to flow once more. As my mentor said to me not long ago, ‘A writer writes just fifteen minutes a day; within a year — a novel.’
To you my readers I say, “Hold on to your reading glasses; the best is definitely coming.”
Today, I continue this topic for my advanced writing course with Ed. With the knowledge cemented deep within my writing veins, I have a solid foundation on which to build a writer’s career. I must, because I have not faltered in my dedication to complete my first novel.
On February 17, 2009, I penned the words “The Bess Time” on a scrap of paper. From that day on, I graduated to full page after page of handwritten words. With dedication beyond my wildest thoughts, I transcribed my worn and tattered scribble into an electrical device (foreign to me) called a computer.
“Did I stop there? — No!”
My veins, coursing with an uncontrollable flow of writers’ mania, I found myself perched in front of a laptop. My hand fused to its keyboard, we became inseparable. We took ferry rides; unaware of rough or calm waters as our course focused only on writing. We flew to Hawaii; exposing our bodies to X-ray and security scrutiny. We recovered from the dramatic invasion by composing ourselves on the lanai, overlooking the tropical surf. But, mostly we sat on or around the kitchen table like old friends, and we created our masterpiece.
On February 17, 2011, I completed my first novel. Now, I can honestly say I am a writer.
Now, to get it published!