I've decided to add another project into my life: writing a book - maybe just a short story. I'm not quite sure I'm busy enough with two kids, two blogs, two columns on Quirkee, becoming a better photographer, 200+ pairs of shoes to unload, and a house and yard that need serious attention now that spring has arrived. Throw in 24, the never-ending saga of Lost, Grey's Anatomy (which may have "jumped the shark"), and Friday Night Lights, and my schedule is full! That doesn't include the almost weekly birthday parties or the physical therapy for my bum knee thanks to my rookie jogging abilities.
So why do I think I have time to write a book? I don't. But I have to write something or I feel like I can't write anything. Kind of like an exercise of the mind, I guess. I also want to find out if I'm capable of organizing enough information together to create a readable story. To make things easier for me, I will write this book as an autobiography about my childhood, the events leading up to fatherhood, and life after DINK (double income no kids). "They" say to write about something you know and that is what I know most about. Plus, I think it will make a good story and give me essential creative writing practice for writing a fiction novel in the future - if I get that far. "They" also say it takes 3-7 years to write a novel, so this should keep me busy and out of trouble for a while!
Some of the portions will be published at Quirkee in my Because I Said So column. I hope you find the story enjoyable and not too boring.
Many years ago I was a boy named Jamie. This story is about my life and the things that happened along the way. One day I would be a father and begin to enjoy the lives of my children unfold before me. The names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent – or the guilty.
The Journey to Dada
The days of becoming a father were never a thought in my little head. I was more interested in finding new ways to make my Hot Wheels cars fly farther off the ramp I constructed from pillows and flattened out boxes. Could I jump them across the room and land just short of the windowsill? Cracking a pane of glass would surely get me grounded and put a dent in my allowance. Taking this game out into the backyard would be a wise decision. My piggy bank was still recovering from the time a baseball veered off its course and landed on the hood of the neighbor’s classic 1957 white Ford Thunderbird convertible. A car cover protected the parade-driven automobile and the baseball didn’t do any damage - mostly thanks to the garage window that slowed it down upon entry.
My friend, Alex, and I went down to the True Value hardware store for a new pane of glass we purchased together with our own money. Twelve dollars later we were on our way home, skipping the usual stop at the TG&Y five and dime store to buy another balsa wood airplane, a bagful of Super Bubble gum, and other cavity inducing treats. It would probably be a month or so until we could afford to stop there again. The bicycle rides to the library would be excruciatingly painful because the store would be calling to us from the across the street like a schoolteacher with a bullhorn at recess.
For the rest of the story click here...