Six ~Writer.

I was once a writer.  I wrote poems and filled dozens of journals and even won money and a trip to Washington D.C. for an essay I wrote when I was seventeen.  An old boyfriend still has the poems I gave him when we parted ways.  The journals were long ago lost or burned.  I even have a yellowed copy of a newspaper article about the essay that won those awards so long ago.

I went to college to become a journalist but discovered that while I was a pretty good writer, I was definitely not cut out for getting that interview or that fast breaking story.  I traveled down a path that involved writing reports and student progress summaries.  

  The last few years, I've had a blog where I wrote snippets about our unschooling family with a few photos thrown in.  It has been sporadic and I didn't make the time to write there very often.

 I stopped thinking of myself  as a writer but I never stopped observing and writing in my head.

Last night, I had one of those moments where it became so clear that it was not too late to begin writing again.  Patti Digh, a writer that I admire, is starting an online writing course for 37 days.  It's not in our budget.  Not even close.  

I registered anyway.  I want to write again.  I started tonight.  

Writer.