Before you can become a writer, you first have to try being something else. Anything will do. Play soccer competitively, become an Eagle Scout, or go on a mission for your church. Set a goal to become the president of IBM—not today’s IBM, mind you, but the powerhouse corporation from the ’80s. A lofty goal, indeed. When soaring to such heights, it’s best to fail early on, say, at 14. That way, you’ll have more to write about.
Write a lot of stories. In one, you and your best friend live on Pluto. In Plutonian years, you’re 83½ and 84, but in Earth years, you’re only 11 and 12.
It’s common knowledge that becoming a good writer requires being a good reader. So, read a lot. Paper books are best, especially the ones from your father’s expansive science fiction and fantasy library. Fall in love with Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series. Read every book, purchasing each one in hardcover the day it comes out. As you mature, realize the drawbacks of a book series that drags on forever. Now that you’re an older teen, time is scarce; high school and girls are taking over.
Become inspired by your freshman English teacher, Mr. Travis. He opens your eyes to the world of poetry, and suddenly there are words to express your teenage angst. Write poems of your own. Ask Mr. Travis to be a reference for your Eagle Scout project. He scribbles a few words onto a scrap of paper: “David Gailey is a class act.” He doesn’t come to your Eagle Ceremony, but the gesture lingers. When you arrive at school later, you’re shocked to learn that Mr. Travis took his own life. He’d been going through a divorce and had become despondent. It’s the first time you come face-to-face with suicide, but not the last. Remember Mr. Travis often; think of his smile and the pain it must have been hiding. Learn to mask your own pain.
Join the high school Junior Varsity soccer team and play a lot of soccer. When a much larger varsity player keeps tripping you every time you get the ball, decide to trip him back. When he lands hard and then gets in your face, demanding to know why you tripped him, look up at him and tell him to stop hacking your ankles. Be genuinely surprised when he not only doesn’t clobber you, but the hacking also stops. Learn something valuable.
Have a few girlfriends. It never works out, but you’ll write a lot of poems about love and loss. When one girlfriend tells you that you’ll never sing as well as Robb Pinnegar, take voice lessons and get 4th chair at regionals. Your girlfriend apologizes, and you’ve learned another important lesson about believing in yourself—and one about her. Your best writing will come from these poignant moments of adversity and despair. Remember Mr. Travis.
When you return from your mission to Switzerland, take the college German CLEP exam and pass with 99%. You’re amazed because you struggled with Spanish in high school and thought you’d never learn a second language.
Perhaps you’ve become too overconfident, though, when you decide to go out into the real world on your own. It’s not that you think you’re necessarily ready or have things figured out. It’s just that, by this time, you’re convinced that your parents, for sure, don’t—and this casts everything you ever learned into a new light. So, you might as well try to sort things on your own. This will not go well. Somehow you managed to become an adult without actually learning the dangers and difficulties of being one. Make a lot of mistakes. Fall down. Get back up. Fall down again. Rinse, lather, and repeat. Quit school, quit jobs, quit relationships. Have children, become inspired again. Write about how your 4- and 5-year-old daughters greet everyone they meet at Home Depot with a line from a Disney movie. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, become concerned about their friendliness and disregard for talking to strangers. Contemplate how your concern reflects on the culture you live in.
Go back to school; work hard. Keep writing. Get better. Learn to despise words like potential and someday.
Occasionally, your family will ask you if writers get discouraged. Ask them if they’ve ever heard of Lorrie Moore. When they respond with a blank face, say, “Sometimes they do, and sometimes they do.”
Join the Gilbert Toastmasters group. Meet some interesting people. Learn something new and keep writing.