Being a writer -Nov.22, 2019

One wall in Papa Hemingway’s office in Cuba.

I do not profess to be a writer.

I am just a fledgeling story teller.

I was lucky enough to be placed in an environment rich in characters and events.

I don’t have the time to tell you about all of my stories right now. They have taken place over many years and in many different places.

Some are written down in my book, “Sunrise Sunset.”

My point is this, if you have had interesting family members, adventures or trials and tribulations, put them down using your method of choice.

I still write with a pen and paper sometimes. Other times, the story is so clear that I just come here to this thing and tap it out.

I made one good decision in high school, and that was to take typing. I don’t claim to be fast, but I do know where the keys are and I can touch type well enough.

I have an interesting short story rattling around in my head right now.

I’m not sure if it’s worth writing down or not. It has an interesting premise and happens between World War I and II.

Many of my stories come from adventures occurring during my time spent in bed. I don’t call it sleeping however.

My night time escapades are far more interesting and real than any of my day to day life. Last night was no exception.

I have always had very detailed dreams and while some of my friends were doing acid or other chemicals, I just went to bed and dreamed.

I can’t explain my good fortune when it comes to my dreams, but I think it has to do with living a healthy lifestyle.

I do not drink coffee or alcohol and I get lots of exercise. I quit smoking when I was twelve.

When I reach old age, perhaps I will venture into the chemicals that my peers used in the distant past, but for now, I will just sleep and dream.

Take some time and write down your stories. Let them sit a while and read them a few times. Then try to make them better.

I have the added advantage of time, I understand that. But do try to find some time for yourself and write somethings down about your family.

Who deserves that more than you.

Maybe your stories are worth sharing.

More of his office. My wife paid extra to sit in his overstuffed chair. She is shy and the photo has mysteriously disappeared.