It wasn't at birth. Nope. I had a wonderful childhood, and leading up to the present - well, like everyone, I have had my share of ups and downs. But as I will tell anyone and everyone who'll listen (and, yes, this does mean I talk to myself a lot) I feel that my life really did begin only a few years ago. I awoke one morning (on a birthday) with an epiphany. I suddenly realised that I had to get my father's book published. He had finished writing it shortly before his death in 1993. The manuscript had then passed between my brothers and me since, with the hope that sooner or later one of us might actually have it published.
When it landed in my hands for the umpteenth time, I typed it out - but then what? On that particular morning I knew I had to get it out, presuming that my mother's advancing age (late 80s) might have had something to do with that overwhelming feeling. Fit as a fiddle (but then she was also the world's leader in hiding minor details like health issues) - or so we thought. I was then that I also recognised my stumbling block - one that puts many writers off altogether, and it might have stopped me too - had it not been for the memory of Dad's sheer passion for his writing, ancestry and the outback of Australia. Added to that was the memory of Mum and her pride in Dad's efforts, but not seeing them come to fruition. That did it.
Dad's book was published exactly a week after Mum passed on in 2010. Darn. But I had tried, and I was reassured that Mum knew something had finally been done and that, I was told, made her a happy woman at her point of death - or as happy as anyone can be when facing the end of life as we know it.
This was the catalyst for my writing. It was and is now in my blood, and I am following a lifelong dream of writing and publishing books. Next off the rank was one about bullying. Once safely published I then decided to combine my writing and another lifelong passion, the outback of Australia. My book on stations is a work in progress. And I am absolutely thriving on it. The most enormous challenge but one I am more than meeting.
I am also attempting my first book of fiction - based on my own experience. The writing and memories are absolutely flowing: some good; some not so good and some I have locked away so tightly they are refusing to budge. Therefore I am having to improvise with other memories in the same situation.
In short, I am unashamedly addicted to writing.
Do not let life pass you by.
The death of a situation gives birth to a new one. Yes, this also includes life.
Circumstances leave clues. For example, shyness in a person can lead them to a passion for the written word.