RealizationsSeptember 7, 2007
It is not new for me to discover brand-new obvious things. Like when I was asked about how I got into dispatching. "Well, I went to school forever and ever and got a Master's degree in English and creative writing, and then I decided I hated teaching, so then I got a job that requires a high school diploma." And then (this was a couple of years ago) I remembered something.
Oh, my. When I graduated from high school, I was accepted to good schools. But I was one of those kids who just wasn't quite ready to fly the nest. I decided to do the community college route after taking a semester off. (My parents worried I'd never go back.)
And I remembered this: I picked up a application to be a dispatcher for the Pismo Beach Police Department. I think I filled it out -- I don't remember if I ever got to the testing process or not. But I remember desiring it, thinking it would be a great job.
So here I am, years later, fully college edemacated, working as a 911 fire/medical dispatcher. And yep, it's a great job (especially when one can fit the writing in at work, like I did today and yesterday).
I remembered something else, that's the point I'm getting to, oh so very slowly. While at work, I can't monopolize the internet computer that I share with my partner, so I have to write by hand and type it out later. I think the very process of writing longhand, and writing romance at that, brought back a memory: Me, aged ten or eleven, lying in a hammock on a warm summer day, Sugar Daddy candies close at hand, reading my handwritten romance novel out loud to my best friend Evelyn (Evelyn Bailey, if you google yourself and find yourself here, email me, wouldja?). I wonder if I still have that little novella. I know I didn't finish it (even back then I had trouble with endings) but I remember it was something about a boy (older, at least sixteen) who kissed -- KISSED -- the protagonist who was probably named something like Violette or Meaghane. I think I got to the kissing scene, wrote it, and then ran the hell away, not knowing where to go after that (and thank god I didn't).
(Hi, do I like parentheses today or what?)
It was nice, though. Writing by hand, suddenly remembering that. I have lofty ambitions sometimes, like everyone else. But honestly, I've always been more drawn to the more prosaic. Yep, I'm smart and driven, but I work a blue-collar job (literally) and I want to write romance novels (among other things).
Nothing wrong with either.