In the beginning the journey was cold.
Noise was very loud and boisterous.
Every night was a cloud of bad theatre
swearing with idle threats. My mother sat
nervously on the couch as my father yelled.
constantly. There was no writing then only
stories that would feed my future when
the time came.
Then Mrs. Winston appeared, a short, blonde
tenacious lady who was my English teacher.
Mrs. Winston had a lust for writing which she
passed down to most of her students. It didn't
hurt that she also had a good sense of humor.
She taught us that we wouldn't always feel like
writing but we must write anyway everyday no
matter how we felt. This was the best advice
about writing I've ever heard.