I started writing before I could actually write. I’m serious.
[About Cat Hartliebe]
Back when I was a child, I would be so interested in my mother’s scribbles, I would follow it. My stories would be like any good four or five year old story, completely pointless with no plot, but I ‘wrote’.
My mom said it was a good drawing. I was crestfallen and stopped showing her until I could actually write letters. I didn’t know letters at first. I didn’t see the letters in my mother’s scribble. And inside books, my mind was filled with the pictures more than the words.
Then I learnt. I saw. I made those letters all on my own. And I wrote. I made poetry and short nonsense. I wish I still had some of it. A couple of poems made it through the years. ‘What are Mother’s Made of?’ and ‘What are Father’s Made of?’ lasted because they were gifts that were well kept. Mishaps in Life almost survived, which was written when I was eight or nine.
During this lost time, I wrote an unknown amount of poetry, stories and songs. No plays, those started in middle school. I have many of my works written somewhere and many of my poems made it on my computer, so I can read them whenever I want. And if you could believe it, I never had that ’emo’ time of life where all my poetry and writing was dark and miserable. I have dark and miserable poems, but not weeks on end of blackness.
Many years I would write something for someone as my gift. Birthdays and holidays were times I could write something for someone specifically. And those have been my most treasured gifts given. One year I asked my father for a gift idea and he responded with I don’t know. Guess what he got? A poem titled I Don’t Know. That’s something I do. My writing is something I am proud of.
Back in high school I found my way into the Regealer, which was our poem and literacy book. You know those cute little things that schools give out yearly. I loved it. My graduation got me the Literacy Award. They only give out one a year and I think the English teachers saw my skills as a poet and writer.
My only real trouble is with marketing. My skill writing may not fit everyone, but I know my niche is there. I just need to get my books to them. So my life as a writer will only be secondary, even if it’s the only thing I want to do. If I can do that, one day I will be able to say proudly I live by my writing. It’ll probably take me thirty years to reach that. Good retirement plan if I don’t give up. <Rofl>