When I was a child borrowing books from the public library, I remember looking round at all the titles on the shelves in the part of the library Mum used. How anyone could find a title of any description, let alone an original one?
At an early age I was obviously considering that I might add to the wealth of literature in one way or another. Books were a lasting means of being read as a writer. My aspirations to write for publication certainly date from childhood. I had little trouble writing a story for English homework, but the time it took me to think of a title was completely out of proportion. Mum used to make good suggestions, but I felt honour-bound not to use her ideas. The concept of “all your own work” was one I took seriously.
Recently I was browsing in a bookshop and noticed a new edition of a book first published in 1994. It is a compilation of memories from people in the county where I live. I contributed to two small sections in it by helping collect some memories of older people and editing them for submission to the Women’s Institute for inclusion in the book – Cumbria Within Living Memory.
I am delighted to see that it is available again. Individuals are not named in the book; there were too many collaborators from villages all over the county.
Whether a book will ever appear with my name as sole author remains to be seen. If not, I could go down in history as a blogger (with intent)!
As a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up? How close or far are you from that vision?