“Never trust a redheaded writer.” –unknown
I don’t know who said it, but I like it because it’s a humorous reminder to me that some people will just find ANY reason to rain on your parade. Red hair notwithstanding, I can recognize a real character when I see one, and a person operating with this kind of logic is definitely going to end up on my pages.
More than a few years ago, my English teacher called me to the front of the room, handed me the paper I had turned in the day before, and told me to read it aloud. I was pretty sure nothing good was in store for me and wondered what terrible crime against the language I had unwittingly committed. The paper was actually a short story—short on deep thoughts and supremely long on melodrama. I did as she asked, and when I finished I got my first taste of writer’s high when my classmates let loose with a smattering of surprised applause and my teacher patted me on the back and told me she thought it was very good. That was 1982 and I’ve yearned for that high ever since, but the idea of life as a bohemian artist failed to impress my parents and so I went to college with the intention of getting a real job.
I became a television producer, which involves basically none of the glamour you are imagining, and all the uncertainty of fickle audiences and network executives. Just a couple of years into my illustrious career we had a show to do with a well-known actor and no budget to hire a writer. I told them I had written a little and, given the lack of alternatives, they told me to give it a shot. I got paid exactly zero dollars for the writing of ten scripts, but none of that mattered when the guy stood on stage and read the words off the teleprompter. They were my words and that was a high I can still recall with a thrill more than twenty years later.
Eventually, I did get paid to write in addition to producing, and I put a lot of words on scripts and teleprompters and more than a few oversized cue cards. It was fun, it paid well, and it was sort of close to my adolescent dreams. Close—but not quite.
So now I’m finally chasing the real dream and finding that there is satisfaction in the work itself. Whether it’s fiction or non-fiction, a blog entry, or just a really inspired Facebook post, this redhead loves to write and I hope you enjoy the results. (Now go hug an English teacher.)
Pixie says
I am so happy for you. I believe in timing. It’s amazing to see how our journeys unfold. All those little details were preparing you for more. I continue to work on appreciating those junctures in my own life. We never know what ordinary moments are actually gifts of experience that we can rely on one day while fulfilling our dreams.