More years ago than I care to remember, I took a course in Interpersonal Relations — one of the more interesting core classes in Psychology. The major project of the semester, and the majority of my overall grade, required that I write a 20+ page (typed) self-portrait essay. The assignment didn’t sound too difficult and, of course, I waited until the last minute to do it — how hard could it be after all. I was very close to the subject matter.
After about 2 pages, I knew I was in trouble and slogged through the rest of the 18 pages feeling like an idiot. Very glad that this essay was due at the end of the semester. Given the tripe that stuttered across those pages, I never wanted to look that instructor in the eye again.
All that to say that it’s hard to write about one’s self in an honest and candid way. At least I think it should be. Say too little and it’s a waste of space; say too much and it’s a bigger waste of space. So, here goes…
A native Texan, I’ve always been interested in science fiction and writing. Just got off track for a few years! I haven’t yet published, but I did win an award in college for one of my short stories, received a $50 savings bond, and my story was included in the university’s magazine. So, I guess you could consider that “published” in a fashion.
I completed my first novel while I was in junior high and can still remember how excited and dedicated I was in finishing that story. Hammering it out over the summer, I wore out my Mom’s prized Brother electric typewriter — that was back in the day — and turned out the worst dreck ever created in the Known Universe. So bad you couldn’t destroy it; one of those “first” manuscripts that just disappear. To this day, I have no clue what happened to The Drakan Plans, but I hope it’s not going to come back to haunt me one day. I did submit it to a publisher for consideration, but based on the rejection (form) letter I received I’m not concerned that anyone saved a copy or remembers anything whatsoever about it.
My second novel was a sequel, of course, and worse than the first one. The 7th Strike was, thankfully, an unfinished attempt since it was accidentally thrown out with draft copies during the revision process. No electronic copies back then, and the effort was more useful for the writing practice and discipline rather than reproducing the actual product.
A lot of miles since then. Some stories finished, some not; several hopeful novels started but eventually discarded. A file full of ideas but nothing to keep them in, so far. The machine may be a little rusty, but the oil’s been changed and the tires have a little tread left on them. Guess it’s time to release the break and get started. Hopefully, it’s not a big waste of time.