Next, or something else indeed.

My last classes start next week and I will soon see what I want to do now or next or…whatever. I have been told I am a talented writer by several people so far. I used to be a gifted violinist when young and gave it all up for stupid, youthful ideas. The first time I thought I would like to be a writer was upon reading A Movable Feast by Ernest Hemingway at age 24. Ernie wrote a memoir about his days in Paris after the Great War aka World War I. I have read and re-read this book several times and I am just starting it again. I just read the memoir Glass Castles and I would like to write more than memoir allows. It seems that only a memoir is coming out of me at this time, but after the harangue of classes I will then take a good look at writing as a profession.

No one seems to think my ability to do family trees/genealogy should be rewarded so I will no longer expect that someday I will be paid for this kind of work. I was once a gifted musician and now I’m better than that at research and research jobs.

I am kind of scared at the idea of being a pro writer, but that is all I have left after all of my I wants and I needs are exhausted. I am looking forward to having my Certificate in Writing in my hot little hand.

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