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October 21, 2015

I can’t say it much better than that. As one comedian once said, “It’s my job, it’s what I do.”

Writing is my job, my passion, one of my reasons for getting up every day. I live it and breathe it.


Like speaking in front of a crowd, how many of you got those cold chills, or a sense of total frustration when you had to write something? Be it an essay, a critique, a whatever. It’s not the same as writing a letter home to momma and papa, which in itself, can be a real chore if you are that bad!

When I finally got back to taking college courses, I didn’t have any choice. I had to write…a lot.

When I became a supervisor and manager, I had to write…a lot.

From that time when I tried if for fun on that awful Star Trek parody, which lasted ¾ of a page on my old Royal manual typewriter, it never occurred to me that I’d be where I am today.


I don’t know if it’s fate, karma, or destiny, but when something like this happens, it just does. I guess I should give credit to those APRs (airman performance reports) and college papers I had to do. When I put my nose to the paper, it wasn’t that bad. However, I was just doing what I had to do, and getting it overwith.

The real deal came when I learned the Nazi method of good writing. Though some of you may have heard this before, for the benefit of the rest of you that don’t want to slog through my past blogs:

My boss, Master Sergeant Hornsby, at Torrejon Air Base, was the Branch Chief of the AGE shop (Aerospace Ground Equipment). I was a Testicle (Technical) Sergeant at the time. I had to do quite a few APRs. He wasn’t happy with the quality of the writing I turned in. So, one day, actually over several days, he had me stay after work and write, re-write and re-write again until I got those APRs right.

This was especially stressful for my wife Kim, who lived in Eurovillas, about 18 miles from the base. We had no phone and she had no idea if I was just late, wrecked the car or what. She freaked out every time. Add that to my stress of having to stay and write over and over again until I got the noun-verb agreement, the correct adverbs and punctuation, while worrying if Kim was going to walk down to the local store and call the La Guardia Civil, the Spanish heat, da fuzz, the po-leece.

So, my friends, after what I call the Nazi method of learning to write, despite the somewhat negative connotations, something clicked. Writing became a lot easier for me. I took the rest of my college courses to get my associates in basket weaving (my Air Force career field). The essays were so easy I could do them in my sleep. Letters home, which I’d never had a problem with to begin with, were much more pleasant! It wasn’t long after that when the first Commodore computers came out and we became electronic. Those first word processors were pretty bad, but I made good use of them for a newsletter Kim and I did.


Then we get back to the good old You Ess And A, I decided to take a crack at writing a novel again. Our music “career” was gone, and I needed a creative outlet.

Old news, said it many times.

Anyway, the more I wrote, the more I wanted to write.

To this day, I write almost every single day. Sometimes it’s just maintenance stuff, but usually it’s something creative.


A real writer loves it and loves to do this stuff. I may be slamming some tortured soul, but I bet I’d never like their stuff anyway. Well, I take that back. I DO know a few writers that don’t really like to write. They have a burning desire to tell a great story, but they hate the process. I feel for them and I’ve read work like that and some of it is quite good. I’ve helped them best I could, but often I say if it’s that much torture, take up another hobby.

Loving what you do shows, plain and simple. I expect it will in what I do.

I hope it does in your work too.

Happy writing!

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