Last
week I explained about my choices for retirement when I was 62: continue
working for three years (or more), continue working and collect Social
Security benefits, or quit working and receive Social Security benefits.
These are choices that most people make
after they turn 60. Things may change, but by the time we turn 60, we will be
facing some form of this decision.
My decision was based on what I really
wanted to do with my life. I mean, deep -- down in my soul -- desire to do.
That desire is to write. Specifically to
write novels.
Thus the third word of my blog's title:
writing.
I wrote my first novel when I was 16. It
was a dreadful thing based on the books I'd been reading about Fu Manchu, an
evil Chinaman. It was, therefore, fan fiction. It's called The Table is the Master and features 12 hapless tourists to Hong
Kong who are kidnapped and forced to play roulette (I guess this seemed
torturous to me at the time) until only one of them is the winner. Supposedly
the others would die.
I had a great time writing it. I had to
learn about roulette, at least the numbers on the wheel, and I made slips of
paper with each number and color that I pulled out to insert into the story. I
did not consider getting an actual roulette wheel. (Probably the potential
explanation to parents still living in
the house was a deterrent.)
It didn't matter that I knew nothing
about the city where the characters were trapped because all the action took
place in one room. I don't recall if they had access to bedrooms or a bathroom,
or showers. So probably it was a stinky room after a while.
I sat at the desk in my brother's room
where the only typewriter in our house lived. I typed every page of that story
on that typewriter. I was always wondering what would happen next, what the characters
would say to each other, how they would react to this forced imprisonment. It
was like reading a story, wondering about the ending. What happens next? Except,
this story was being written by me, so I determined what happened next.
What a joy!
I wrote another novel in my twenties, a
historical romance, and a historical mystery in my forties. During my life, I
wrote over 25 short stories and a few children's books.
Hmm. Seeing a pattern?
Truthfully, I haven't been able to stop.
(Topic for another blog post.) I constantly imagine characters, settings,
plots.
For most of my life, I've had to set
aside time to work on stories. Even if they came to me fast and furious, like
my story "The Honorable Nephew", I still had to leave them to go to
work. They never were my work.
Since I turned 62 and could receive my Social
Security benefits, I have been able to write every day for as long as I want. I
have published one novel and a play for children to perform. I'm working on
several novels; either planning them (I love planning!), revising and polishing
them, or researching for them. I've completed two novellas, a fantasy novel,
and a book that follows the one already published. Thus, I have a series!
I consider myself one of the luckiest
people in the world: I have lived long enough to receive retirement benefits, I
am now enjoying my work as a novelist every single day, I have good enough
health to probably live another 30 years. Plenty of time for a career!
Is there a dream life for you? Can you
live it now, or must you wait? Either one is fine!
Have a lucky, joy-filled week, whatever
your age!
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