I'm not sure when I decided that I wanted to be a writer. I do remember lugging out the heavy typewriter in the third grade and attempting to start and complete my first novel right then and there on the circular, 70's, rag rug in our living room.
I think it had to do with audience. I've always loved the power of captivating an audience either with humor or with good thought. Story is a celebrated power in my family, starting with my Grandpa....another reason I wanted to write?
My son, who is in the 1st grade, found one of my writings from when I was in the 1st grade. He found this very amusing.
Here is what he read: (I am typing it just as I wrote it, so there will be mistakes for you to discover.)
My family, written by Rebekah.
My job at home is to get the eggs. (There was a drawing of a large red chicken shed and the attic was full of eggs.)
Something my family likes to do is work and play. My mom work inside and washe the dishe. My sister plays my dad and me work too.
My house is white and green. My house is nice and warm. My family has a dog and cats too.
My son had some criticism, "Mom, you should have drawn your pictures on the same pages as the words so I didn't have to flip over to see them." Good point B, thanks for that editing advise 30 plus years later.
Things I noticed: I liked my family and my house. My sister, in all the drawings had really long, red hair. My dad worked. He still does. This is an accurate observation. While some men have hobbies that take them away from their homes, my dad's hobby has been working around the house and property. My favorite part is that I thought my house was warm. Must have been warm with love because our house was freezing back then. We heated with only wood and if my dad was not home to get he fire started my mom never even tried and so we just froze until he came home.