Any Writers Here?

Do any of you write for a living, or have written for a living? I was a reporter for three weekly and two daily newspapers, back in the day when newsprint looked like it may survive.

In my field of work, I wrote articles for the top industrial magazines for about six years, but now that I am considering retirement, I'm trying to put my mind on something new. I've written a few short stories, tales from my life, true stuff, that I may share here.

For now, I'd like to know if there any published writers or soon-to-be published writers here.
David

 

Hi David:

I am an aspiring writer. Unfortunately, most of the writing I do is technical and trade-specific. But I know I have a great novel in me. One of these days....

-Golly

 

As an undergraduate, I was editor at the university newspaper. During graduate school, I also freelanced a bit for the local newspaper but chose an academic career instead--less acute pressure, more chronic pain. That said, journalism will always hold a place in my heart. Quality journalism exemplifies writing in its purest form. Not surprisingly, many novelists were also journalists or wrote for newspapers during their careers.

And I agree with @Karen about sharing your work.

 

I just woke up, now checkin' mail, and gotta eat something. Weird hours, to say the least, when one has to rise at 4:15 am every morning. Below, I gave a couple examples of my writing. Thanks for the request.
David

 

I wrote technical articles for Pest Mgmt. Professional over a period of about eight or nine years. Here's one I wrote for the fun of it that they let pass. I notice high school teachers download it at times to share with their classes. The others were definitely more technical. To read it, I think it will have to be copied and set into Word or Office.

 

I did manage to find this one that Yahoo Contributor purchased a few months ago. They closed down, incidentally, disappointing lots of aspiring writers who wrote for them:

While on semester break during my college days, I began to read Aleksandre I. Solzhenitsyn’s personal account of Stalin’s terror-filled reign, Gulag Archipelago. It is not an easy read, especially for those who prefer to stay mindless of the horrors of life.

Knowing something about terror and the madness of dysfunction as a boy, in an odd way, I looked forward to finding company in those pages. More than that, however, I discovered profound courage and spiritual strength. I was in awe of the Russian people, and sympathetic toward their horrific ordeal.

Then, while at the middle of the book, I got a knock on my apartment door. I arose, opened it, and was met face-to-face with a man identifying himself as an agent while holding FBI credentials. Accompanying him were another FBI agent and a police officer.

The guy to first speak seemed to be in charge. He and his men, he told me, had been keeping my apartment under surveillance for the past few days and wondered why I chose not to leave, why I remained cooped up. "Are you hiding? You haven't left that seat (pointing) for hours, and you've been out only once to order food at Benny's." he said.

Benny’s Chinese restaurant was my favorite place to eat. Located only a few minutes from the beach, my apartment was across the street, on the second story, above a leather shop, directly across from Benny’s.

To get there I had to leave the building down the back stairwell behind Dan’s leather shop. The smell of fresh cut leather and dyes, I grew to like, and often I stepped in to gab for a while, mostly about Christian life issues and doctrinal debates.

Richard, Dan’s helper and phenomenal craftsman, was a true comedian the way he was able to impersonate church leaders. It was all so intense, those years we shared every day wrapped up in a community-wide movement that demanded inward and outward change. One had to laugh to exist.

Both Richard and I were musicians in an original Christian quartet that placed Richard as the lead singer, and rightfully so. He was a consistent crowd pleaser.

My completely honest explanation to the FBI was that I was a poor college student who was attempting to get a head start on reading assignments for next term. "I'm majoring in literature and the workload can be overwhelming at times," I said.

“What’s this all about?” I asked him. His reply was as if it jumped right out of the pages I was reading, "You fit the description of a man who raped and murdered a girl thirty miles south of here. We're taking you in for questioning."

Miranda rights were not given to me, so, in reality, I really wasn't being arrested, just questioned, so I wasn't handcuffed. "Surely, there's been some mistake," I told myself.

The police station was located less than two blocks from my apartment, and during our slow walk there, the agent asked me what else I did with my leisure time. I told him that I liked to fish.

"What kind of fish do you catch?"

"Whiting and flounder mostly."

"Where do you go?" he asked, attempting to catch me, I supposed.

"Mostly to the pier, but flounder are best caught at night near the jetties in Mayport," I replied as we entered the station.

Past the doorway, I was told to take a seat inside a scarcely furnished foyer. The agent continued talking. He told me he and his buddy planned to do some fishing while they were in Florida and asked if I had any pointers to share with them. I explained how to set fishing lines and the type of baits to use.

“Do I know enough about seawater angling,”. I thought to ask, but just let it go.

After ten minutes, I was led into a room where my fingerprints were taken, thanked for being so cooperative, and told not to leave town for a few weeks. I complied.

Never again was I called to the police station, and I never learned if they caught the bad guy.

When I got back to my apartment, I picked up Solzenhitsyn's book to continue where I left off, feeling a bit more like a fellow patriot.

I never did see those guys at the jetties.

 

Hi, @UserID: I am a long-time newspaper journalist, 40 years, and actually still working. I'm in the same state as you, just on the right-hand coast.
Here is my post from a previous thread that will explain more. Actually, its a great thread, in Chat also, on what we all do for a living. You can find out more about me and others by scrolling down:

https://www.tinnitustalk.com/threads/wondering-what-we-all-do-for-our-work-job-living.1800/

Welcome to TT!

 

Thanks LadyDi. I wrote for newspapers long enough to realize I didn't want to cover city/town hall, school board and planning commission meetings the rest of my life. Even when I wrote for two weeklies, in which case I covered it all, even crime, the sameness of the job and the demands on my time overwhelmed me after six years.

I'd be at home on a Sunday and get a call from the editor, "Hurry, go by the newspaper and grab a camera. Get the story. The mayor is at MacDonalds milking a cow!" Shortly after that, I moved south to FL thinking I'd find better employment writing, was hired quickly for the Evening Independent, then they folded after a few months. Breaking news, follow-up stories, accidents, features, politics, and the occasional columns I have stored in shoe boxes, tons of them, and why? Probably so I can prove I'm able to make a mountain out of molehill, when four hours in a meeting comes to zilch.

 

It is a crazy business with no time boundaries (and probably the reason I never had kids, never would have seen 'em). But guess I am lucky. I largely have been able to do the work I wanted and have loved it.