One of my earliest dreams was to be a writer. My first memory of wanting to be a writer harks back to the second grade shortly after I learned to read. Learning to read opened my eyes and minds to amazing things. I wanted to create that same perfect experience for some one else that a book created for me.
It is easy to want to be something, but to follow through and actually do it is hard.
I was raised during a time when wanting something for yourself always seemed a bit selfish.
First there is the follow through to the end. So often our dreams seem lofty and out of our reach. We tend to start toward them, but we don’t have the confidence or refuse to make the time to achieve our dreams.
One of my earliest dreams of what adulthood looked like, I would be a primary school teacher teaching children to read, and in the summer I would spend my days on the beach writing books and painting.
Yep. I can string words together to make a sentence, and then string a few sentences together into a paragraph. That makes me a writer. A writer of books well that I am still working on that.