Blast From the Past–Reading Stuff I Wrote When I Was 18 Years old.

Earlier this week, I had lunch with Kyle.  He has been my friend since I was 17 years old, and now, we are middle-aged, out of shape and (I’m) showing more than a few gray hairs.  Kyle had been digging through some old boxes of stuff and found original copies of three stories I wrote between 1982 and 1987.  He gave them to me.

How he managed to keep up with these over the decades is a mystery to me, but I’m forever grateful.Thumba_2013-05-28_21-31-51  I read them as soon as I got home.

I do have to say that, after looking over I Like Hell – a story I wrote when I was 18 years old – I showed promise, but had not lived enough at that point to effectively write about life.  The same is true of the other stories, though Greetings From The Planet Earth is very silly, and obviously influenced by Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker series.

This copy of I Like Hell was the original, written on an old, baby-blue, Royal typewriter. I know it was the original because you could still feel the indentation on the back of the pages from where the striker hit the paper.  Also, all the slashed-out typos.  No delete key back then, kiddies.

I remember making copies of this story on the Xerox machine at my local library (ten cents a page), and sending it out to a few publishers. Of course, it was never picked up. The same is true of the other two as well – none were published.

Thumba_2013-05-28_21-46-31These stories are not good, but for me – just for me and me alone – it was fantastic to see them again, after so many years. It reminds me how long writing has been my aspiration.

Here I am, 31 years later, and I’m still hitting the keys. I’m still sending out my stories and novels, and sometimes, they even get published. I keep trying and I keep the faith that I am a writer.Thumba_2013-05-28_21-37-22



Faith [fayth] – fidelity to one’s promises; sincerity of intentions; firm belief in something for which there is no proof


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