Why I Like To Write...

While at school I never did like to read, actually, I never read a book.

This all happened when I was perhaps 17.  For some reason, I can't remember, I had lots of time on my hands and my Dad had a room with a wall full of books.

One day, out of the blue I picked up one of my Dad's books and started reading.  I began to devour the words, the pages, it was fascinating.  I began to imagine the places, the colors, the sounds and even the smells the writer described.  When I finished the first book I felt thirsty for more.

Since then I have read all kinds of books, good ones and not that good,  I have even read books that I did not understand.

I thought about writing myself, my head started spinning with ideas and it has not stopped.  I didn't think I had stories of my own to tell, and during the years I found myself telling stories here and stories there.  Well, now is the time, the time to start, to give it all, to be.

I can see myself writing in a little cottage by the ocean.  The cottage is white, with light blue discolored trims and doors, the windows are open and the curtains are dancing with the ocean breeze.

I'm sitting at my desk, flying, dancing, surfing on the waves.  Laughing and full of joy!