At the age of six, sitting in a class of Westcourt Primary School in the UK, I was writing a story. I had written down to the end of the page and asked the teacher if I could have another piece of paper to continue writing. She was happy to oblige and so I wrote on. The more I wrote, the more I wanted to write. And each time I asked for yet another piece of paper, the delight in the teacher's voice was heightened.
'Another piece of paper?' she would say each time with a beaming smile.
Little did she know that, as I progressed, my writing was becoming larger by the line. At that age, I knew I wanted to write but not entirely sure as to what I wanted to write about. I wanted to fill pages. Reaching the end of the story on page six, the height of my letters must have been half an inch or more. But the desire to write was born. And I'm so glad of that teacher's encouragement, those years ago. She could have said: "No David, you've had quite enough paper now."
Years later, I still have a vague memory of the plot: it concerned the friendship of two people and they, apparently, turned into worms at the end; and both spiralled into the ground. (?!)
Writing essays at junior school almost damaged my juvenile ambition, as the majority of the subjects we were asked to write about were not very creative, at least not in my way of thinking. They weren't stories, as such. Write about describing a telephone box to someone who had never seen one, for instance; or describe a painting that we were shown. (I got top marks because I cheated. I surreptitiously sketched the painting, group of people here and there, a lamp, a carriage, etc; and was commended on my excellent memory...).
I read a lot of science fiction as a lad, so it was no surprise that my first major piece of writing was sci-fi. I wrote it in longhand at my parent's kitchen table at the age of fourteen. It was called The Segra and it ran to 100 pages or more. I decided to type it out, not long ago, and get a copy or two via Lulu for old times sake. It sure reads very peculiarly, almost surreal in parts! The main plot is almost salvageable to write it again, properly as an adult...or maybe not...
Anyone have any stories to tell concerning their first "ladder"?
And now for something completely different: (this post was originally on my Blogger blog, written back in October 2009 - as you might or might not have gathered, I'm transferring them to this website blog, reposting with the latest dates) the original post included a picture of our dog Bullseye. Why? I needed to try out the Insert Image option at the time, and in this repost, I see no reason not to still show it!
