I Never WANTED To Be A Writer

Did that heading surprise, perhaps even shock you? Well, let me explain.

When I say, “I never WANTED to be a writer,” I really mean that I never had to say,
“I wish I could write,” any more than a fish would say, “I wish I could swim,” any more
than a lilac would say, “I wish I smelled good,” any more than a robin would say, “I
wish I could sing.”

One doesn’t need to wish for what one has always had.

I didn’t choose to be a writer; it was a gift given to me, a gift I thank God for every day.

Oh, I suppose I could have chosen not to write, not to use the gift.

Or could I?

No more than I could choose not to breathe.

No more than I could choose not to be alive.


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