As far as being a REAL writer, I am far from that.
I am a talker, a story teller of my life and I write like I talk.
Being an only child and not dealing well with groups or being a joiner I have always written down what I felt.
When paper was scarce during the war I scrounged for paper all the time.
Then I hid what I wrote.
I am a closet writer.
I started my blog thinking it was my daily journal and no one was going to find it anyway.
People find you as soon as you put your name on the internet someone is going to find you.
So this week I joined in with my Father Christmas story in Forming the Thread a fairly new site with articles about everything.
Lila is the owner and she wrote that my article had a great deal of readership.
I even forgot to go look for it.
Wow. This is great, wonderful, and I am petrified for no good reason all at the same time.
I never even had a lesson in the English language and a , or :, or :, are sort of non existing for me. So if you read my blog you already know that. I taught myself.
As I get older I am remembering more French and Flemish and often wonder while I play Scrabble "Is this French or English?Where does that word belong?" I am mixing them all up putting them in my special blender and it is a guess to what dictionary the word belongs.