It’s been quite a while since I’ve gotten to be regular with blogging. I remember thinking at one time that it wasn’t for me. When I took off to live in Spain, I remember getting asked to write about my journey. At first, that didn’t especially appeal to me. Would people really care THAT much about my time overseas? Will I care enough to write about what I do? Will I even have the time or interest?
Fortunately, the answer to all of those questions was YES. I wrote a lot when I was a kid. I wrote series of books while I was in elementary school, mostly concentrated between ages 5 and 14. I’ll never forget the first book I wrote, The Boy Who Wanted a Dog. It was a semi-autobiographical tale of sorts. It was a story about a boy who, yep you guessed it, wanted a dog from his parents. Guess what other five-year-old had the exact same desire. Yep, yours truly! Now, the little protagonist of this stapled-together-on-lined-paper story GOT his dog at the end of the book. The young, hopeful author did not.