Been writing for about thirty years. The early years were manual, pen and pencil. Not much of it was worth holding onto. But those words helped me through some tough times when I began to come to grips with what's called these days post traumatic stress. Didn't know I had till last fall at the State Fair. By then it was over. Seems like I've spent my life one step behind.
Anyhow, didn't begin to find my writing voice till I ran into my Uncle Emil on the Fourth of July in Pequot Lakes a while back. Whispered me a tale while I ate a smoked turkey leg and got me first prize in a liars contest. He's my muse and a darned good friend. Been around since I was a kid and was always there to lend a guiding hand. He always knew the right thing to do even when it sure as heck looked like the wrong thing. There's a lesson there if you care to think about it. Should you figure out what that lesson is, let me know, 'cause I'm mostly clueless.
Now, Emil's only there in spirit. Never been alive that I know of. But he's there, only you can't see him. I can't either as he's always behind my left shoulder no matter which way I turn.
So, when I took up writing, I tried my best to write as Emil wanted me to. Should you read any of my four hundred entries, you'll easily see which ones Emil had his hand in. A fair number are just words on a page. Some are pretty good. And there's a nine word passage, I forget exactly where, that's pure poetry.
If you read any of my entries and don't find it interesting, move on. Should you find one you like, let me know. Find one you don't, keep it to yourself as I have a very delicate ego.