Someone once said, “If you want to be a writer, the first sixty years are the hardest.”

When your writing efforts are critiqued, (the truth is, it sometimes feels more like criticism) where does that tightness in the stomach come from? Maybe from hidden memories, back in school when attempting to write something profound? Something that others thought quite ‘immature’? Because it included expressed feelings and depth?

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I remember as a youngster, part of our little neighborhood ‘gang’, long before most of you were even born, being once asked to push over a mailbox. It seemed such a major issue at the time, but I can see that the idea was to create myself as ‘one of us’ from the perspective of the other fellows.

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