Like many writers I sit and hope for the big break that will mean a life of luxury and ease. In my more sober moments I know that the life of a freelance writer is probably the nearest I'll get, but one that I'm enjoying.
I've been writing stories since childhood, though I usually threw them away afterwards. One of my first attempts at a novel was a story set during a third world war that had plenty of action and imagination. As I threw it away, I have no idea how good or bad it really was. I'll just have to let my imagination and ego tell me that it was a misunderstood masterpiece.
Primary school was, and still is, the most imaginative part of our education system; at least from the childs point of view. I cut my teeth on story writing at that time and it was probably the only part of my school work that I fully concentrated on.
I can remember one time when we were told to write a story (probably to keep us all quiet). I let my imagination run. I wrote a story about monsters inhabiting a forest and terrorising the local population, but who were actually misunderstood. As I wrote I noticed that the kid next to me (Billy I think) had written one more page than me. I was incensed. So I dragged the story out and after 8 pages looked again. He was on page 10.
I carried on in much the same vein until the teacher told us all to finish our stories. So I had the monsters bombed to death.
At secondary school, story writing was the only part of English that I enjoyed...in fact it was the only part of school I enjoyed. One teacher, the English teacher, annoyed me so much that when he asked us to write a story about a particular teacher I wrote about him being a sex-offender on the run from the police. How I managed to avoid a detention for that I'll never know.
As I grew older I stopped writing. I had nowhere to send it, would rather go 'out' and needed to earn a living. But I never stopped dreaming up stories. Though I never wrote them down, most of them stayed with me. Partly it was as a means of escape from my (then) miserable life and partly because it was fun to imagine other places, other worlds and other people.
I found it enlightening to imagine myself in someone else's shoes and to live their life. It was also quite humbling to realise that in some cases that life could have been mine. I have now written most of them down and they have formed the foundation of the stories that I write.
Now that I have growing kids I find I have no money to go out so have started writing again. But this time I have places to send them, magazines and websites that will publish them and people who will read them.
However, until I get my big break, become a millionaire, retire to the Bahamas and get drowned when the sea level rises, this is the only reliable outlet for my writing.
Read, enjoy and tell any agents or publishers you happen to meet about how good I am.