How I became a writer.

I fancy myself a writer. Merely because I write every day. Just for the heck of it. I write compulsively. It’s an addiction. Have to write. My daily fix.  Used to make my living. By writing. For newspapers. I felt pleasure. In seeing my words published. In print. It was oh, so satisfying. Gave me a sense. Of being. A writer. Master of a skill.  A craft. Don’t consider myself a good or exceptional writer. Just an ordinary writer. With a style. Makes me different. Like to be different.  To flow. In a way that seems natural. For me. As a youth.  Learned that writing. Was a way to be recognized. To be noticed. Even more so. Than with the spoken word. Writing was there. To be retrieved. To be pondered.  Spoken words tend to vanish. To be forgotten. Written words serve as reminders. Of what was once said.  In another time. Another place. I prefer reading. Written words. Than listening. To spoken words. Yes. Yes. I’m a better reader. Than listener. Spoken words are too elusive. Maybe it’s that I need time. To grasp the full meaning of a thought. I have a deep desire. To proceed through life. Slowly. Little wonder. That I’ve become a writer. --Jim Broede