There are two questions often asked of writers. The first, where do your ideas come from? The second, when did you know you wanted to write? My dad, and one very magical summer, serves as my reply.
We learned cursive writing in third grade. The summer between third and fourth grade, my parents bought me a Girl Scout branded diary. I was thrilled, and I resolved to write something exciting every night. I’d already worked my way through the Nancy Drew book series, so I was pretty sure I knew what to look for. I was going to solve mysteries. Not just mysteries, murder mysteries. My dad was all in from day one. He didn’t know about the murder part of the mystery stuff, but he promised me a fun summer of excitement. He didn’t disappoint.
L. Nederwimmeron via Pixabay.
The greater New Jersey/New York area was fertile ground for a kid with an imagination. First stop was the Empire State Building. The view from the observation deck was outstanding. This was 1961 so it was still the tallest building in the world. Dad told me about planes flying into it during the War and calmly explained that a penny tossed from that height would go right through the person it hit. My internal writer cackled with glee. Through viewfinders from the observation deck, you could see the Statue of Liberty. The next weekend stop on our summer tour.
Maurice LeBail via Pixabay
The hike to the crown of the Statue of Liberty is arduous. Visitors climb a metalwork spiral staircase to the top. The rails had spaces between them that were large enough for someone to slip through and low enough to flip over. My bloodthirsty mind filled in the blanks with a vicious chase, resulting in someone going over the top. I even visualized them getting stuck on one of the support beams between the statue and the stairs. Dad had a special surprise for me when we reached the crown. He had a friend whose son was a member of the park police. He took us into the long-closed torch. No stairs there. Visitors (only park police since 1916) climb a rickety ladder to a tiny observation platform surrounded by a low rail. The torch was closed to the public after an explosion at the Black Tom Munitions plant damaged it. An early act of terrorism.
We spent the rest of the summer visiting the local amusement parks. Palisades, Freedomland, and the Jersey Shore until it was time to make our annual trip to visit family in Florida. I no longer have the journal, but the memories are as fresh today as they were then. That’s the summer I knew I wanted to be a writer, and discovered that the best inspiration comes from life.
What about you, readers and writers. Can you pinpoint a moment in time when you knew what you would become?
I love this story of how you came to write especially as it spans a lifetime.
Thank you!
I am interesting in “when I learned cursive” … unfortunately a lot of kids today are NOT learning cursive (my young waitress (she must be 24?) at one of my haunts tests herself by looking at the pages I am editing and laments she can’t read cursive, was never taught it). That connection from mind to hand to fingers to pen to page – if someone knows details of the beauty of that connection – let me know! Being on devices so early in childhood – that pull to click to the next distraction – gotta be hard! Sorry your journals are long gone – I know mine are too – but it’s a great way to start a writing career
Kids today are missing out on so much not learning cursive. There is something so meditative about putting pen to paper. Did your classrooms have the Palmer method examples as a border over the top of the blackboards?
I liked writing assignments in College, but didn’t consider writing until I was in my 40s and my email signatures became world famous in the library community. When I finally (after three tries) completed the six books in the Chronicles of Thomas Covenant series by Stephen Donaldson, the bug bit me big time. On a note related to your NYC experiences, I remember when I was four or five riding past all the ships docked on the New York waterfront at night and thinking how huge they were.
Now I want to know about your email signatures! What a great origin story.
Great story! Brings back my own memories of journaling (and illustrating) my own family stories and experiences as a child. It became a lifelong thread.
I have gifted journals to all six of my grands, along with many, many books. Lifelong seeds planted.
Thanks for sharing!
What a great gift! How wonderful that you illustrated your journals.
We may have crossed paths that summer! Those stairs inside the statue were tough. I saw a huge fire in Jersey when I finally got to the crown. Totally envious you got to go up in the torch. Palisades and Freedomland, awful memories from there (I guess I’m not an amusement park gal).
Great story about your dad being all in on your adventures. I can remember riding the subway and memorizing features of individual people in case they committed a crime. Nancy Drew on the spot!