I started writing at an early
age.By the time I was fifteen I had a
stack of novellas handwritten in textbooks.Christmas was coming and what I wanted most was a typewriter.I put out hints to my parents and spent many
hours daydreaming about my typewriter, imagining how it would change my
life.My dream was to becoming a
newspaper journalist.I went to sleep at
night imagining the sound of keys tapping out the 10,000 words of my next
novel.If only I had a typewriter: one
with a bell that clanged when you threw the platen across, keys that smacked in
the rhythm of the words I would write, and a ribbon that printed in both black
Imagine my deep disappointment
when Christmas morning came and there was no typewriter among the presents,
just a small, rectangular gift-wrapped box from Mom and Dad.Inside was a gold wristwatch with an
expandable wrist band and dainty oval face.Mom saw I was disappointed. “It’s a very expensive watch,” she said. “We
found it at a pawnshop.Although it
isn’t new, it’s almost like new and it’s the best make of watch there is.”
My parents didn’t realize how
much I hated watches, the dreaded symbol of the ‘curfew’ imposed on us teenage
kids, a restriction on my adventurous spirit. Now I’d have no excuse for being
late. I’d turn into the White Rabbit, always looking at my watch to see what
time it was!
I felt guilty for being so
ungrateful and my Christmas day was spoiled...until later I went up to my room
and there on my table was an Underwood typewriter, exactly the kind that my
writer-hero Ernest Hemingway used.
I’m a published writer
now.I have a computer, and the keyboard
doesn’t make that exciting loud clacking sound like the old Underwood did, but
it still produces a gentle click to the rhythm of the words I type.And in my jewellery box, I have a gold watch
with an expandable wristband and dainty oval face, one almost exactly like the
watch my parents gave me that Christmas so many years ago. Except this
wristwatch is one that belonged to my mother.Every time I look at it, I’m reminded of her, and of that Christmas.
My real name? W.RUTH KOZAK. Travel journalist,historical fiction writer, memoir writer and playwright. Writing instructor, editor/publisher of a new travel ezine "Travel Thru History". I also instruct various writing classes for travel, creative writing, and memoirs.
Mostly, I'm living the writer's life.