I don’t remember wanting to be a writer as a kid. No keeping dairies, at least not for more than a day or two, or writing stories or anything else that required spelling.
But today my cousin and I spent hours going through old photo albums and letters from my grandparents house and there was a little story I wrote to them.
I feel that in defense of my spelling it’s important to note that Grandma taught me Finnish words out of a Richard Scary book. Hevonen is the Finnish word for horse and, while google translate doesn’t think cowpoy is Finnish for cowboy, I clearly did. The only word I actually spelled wrong was hevonen and that’s far better than I’ve done so far on this post tonight. As far as my formatting, that was clearly done by typewriter and I’m not sure I ever figured out how that worked.
Maybe I have always liked telling stories. I’ve forgotten a lot in the last 38 years, (Like what year my brother was married and, apparently, how to spell married). I could have forgotten that too. It’s completely possible. And thank all that is good and true in this world for word processors and spell check.