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Write, Who Me?


It was the third of June as I leaned back in my uncomfortable office chair, the furnace of summer beginning to crank out its first hot, muggy days of the season. I glanced out the window to the blue skies dotted with white puffy clouds. For reasons I cannot explain, the skies of early summer bring a flood of nostalgia for the carefree days of my youth. Tawny, our tan border collie curled up beside me and closed her eyes. Such a peaceful scene, I muttered to myself, knowing full well that I was sorting through the pieces of a stomach-churning puzzle life had placed before me. I took a sip of coffee, reached for the volume, and turned up the music. It was then I leaned back, closed my eyes, and began to contemplate the challenge presented to me by friends and family.

You should be a writer, they said. I ran that thought through my head, what on gods green earth do I know about writing? Do I have anything of interest to write about?

My mind began to drift to summers spent reading my favorite books, The Hardy Boys, The Three Investigators, amongst others that had me dreaming of solving mysteries. Louis L'amour westerns kindled my dreams of roaming the old west. On one occasion, my sister had checked out The Amityville Horror. A book that caused me several sleepless nights. Dad had a knack for finding good spy novels, and I would raid his book pile from time to time. I checked out numerous books on how to make this and that. Looking back, I did not miss anything by growing up without a television.

Opening my eyes, I returned to the challenge at hand. I keep a personal online blog, the blog is open for individuals to read, but the thoughts are my mine recorded for my reference. For some time, I have considered turning my thoughts into a series of short stories. With that thought in mind, I decided a change in music was needed. Turning on The Carpenters Greatest Hits, memories of being a teenager in the late seventies and early eighties tried to form but soon disappear, leaving a feeling of emptiness.

Sighing, I get up from the computer, real-life such as the stress of ongoing life-changing events and hoping the air conditioner will continue to run until the repairman returns with the new part weighs heavy on this hot and muggy third of June.


Alan Simpson

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The essence of sophistication is simplicity. 

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