My dream of being a writer has had its fits and starts. When I all but finished my first book, I wrote a couple more short stories, and then didn’t write a word for ten years.
I was done with the dream.
I remember sharing with Rob one day that I used to dream of being a writer, but realized I didn’t have what it took. He responded with a story about a writer friend of his, or maybe he just knew this writer. He had her come into his classroom and discuss writing with his students. He then went on to say that, she wrote something like sixteen books before she sold her first one.
Inspiring, but it wasn’t enough to convince me I could be a writer.
I was doing a lot of writing in school, and it sort of got the juices flowing. But I was embarking on a new career, and when I did revisit that book I almost finished, I wasn’t sure if there were any more books in the tank.
I was happy to see it still on my hard drive, but not inspired enough to try to remember the password that protected it.
Then one day my ex-wife and I were driving home and my iPhone sounded the alert that told me I had an email. I didn’t think much of it, and assured Chris that it was just an email from my Yahoo account.
“Hey, Bill, this is Andrea, Jim’s friend from Alabama. I don’t know if you heard but Jim was killed in a car accident last night. His Mom has asked me to contact some of his military friends to let them know. We are devastated. Call me if you need…”
They were not the only ones devastated.
I wrote about Jim and our friendship in Best Friend. My biggest regret in Jim’s passing was that we didn’t stay in better touch. But my life was hell, and his was a whirlwind of chasing his dreams and the allusive “one”.
I missed Jim’s funeral. That sucked!
Jim landed a job in the British Virgin Islands with the National Guard, tough gig! Every other week he posted pictures of paradise. Kind of like my Facebook friend Bridgette, every day is a day in paradise. But there were pictures he posted that never showed up on my timeline.
I’ll get to those in a minute.