This morning I went to the local TAFE college to speak to a Women’s Education class about being a writer. They were a lovely group of women, and they made me feel very welcome. I admit, giving them all a lollypop may account for some of the goodwill, (ah yes, the old “bribe ’em with candy” trick) but even so, they were a nice bunch of people. Hey, they gave me chocolate, which proves my point. (Sorry darling, there was only enough for me.)

Preparing what I had to say proved to be an interesting exercise. I did a little resume of my life – particularly my various educational and career paths – and I must say, I was surprised. When your life is in bullet points it’s amazing how good it looks. Yep, if I ignore the decade-long gaps between school and jobs, it’s almost impressive. (Oh, come on, humour me.) And I have to go on record: I owe a lot to the various governments I’ve had the pleasure of living through in my lifetime, because quite often it it wasn’t for their financial help I wouldn’t have done half of it. (In fact, I wouldn’t have finished high school.)

What the whole exercise showed me is how long I’ve been infatuated with words/stories/books/drama and how deeply ingrained into my psyche has been the desire…no, the need to write. To misquote that poor melancholic prophet, Jeremiah, it’s a “burning in the bones”. How blessed am I that in the last decade I have finally been able to realise my dream. Not everyone gets to do that. And even though I regret not pursuing it more persistently when I was young, I’ve also realised that all the “detours” I took, and all the set-backs I’ve had in life, haven’t been wasted. They are a deep resource from which I can draw.

I’ve also realised that I’ve had a lot of help along the way. From government financial schemes, to the belief (and sometimes push) of parents and friends, to the long-suffering support and loving encouragement of my husband, I wouldn’t be doing what I do if it weren’t for the generosity of others. We need each other. My husband describes the church as a pilgrim people on a journey; we’re meant to help each other along the way. And that’s true. But, you know, I think it’s true of the whole planet. We’re in this together, people.

I’m grateful for everyone who’s had even a moment in my life. I’m even thankful for those who were nasty, selfish or general poops. Yes, even the really weird ones. (Doesn’t mean your behaviour is excused, so stop it!) All of you have contributed to the rich tapestry that’s been my life so far. I expect little snippets of your personalities and sayings and actions will make it into my writing somewhere or other. And the really awful people will probably end up as murder victims. (Writing can be so cathartic!)

Perhaps if I thought about things in bullet points more often, I might learn to overlook the yucky stuff, and see the things for which I can be thankful. (Mind you, this is a good day. I’ve had chocolate. It could be a whole other story tomorrow.)