We had been through a rough financial time. We lost our home and business, and had to return to our hometown. My husband took a menial job to get by. We had four children at home that needed to be fed. I got a job as an early morning waitress, which left me lots of spare time to worry.
In my off time, I buried myself in books, trying to escape. Until now, I'd only read required books in school. Never for pleasure. I was surprised at how entertaining they were. The more I read, the more I loved them. I became obsessed with books. And before long, I wanted to write one.
Actually, it was more like an overwhelming need I couldn't escape.
Unfortunately, I didn't know the first thing about writing. I researched the area and found a local junior college that offered Creative Writing classes. When I checked it out, the fee was $15 plus $35 for books. Fifty dollars. There was no way I could afford that. Not at this point, anyway.
I tried to put the idea out of my mind but couldn't. The urge became a knot in my stomach that wouldn't go away. Still, I knew I couldn't do anything.
When I finished the current book I was reading, I was late starting dinner. Using my tips for the day, I headed down to the corner store to pick up a few necessities. Since it was late, there were no customers, and I was able to
park right in front of the market.
When I came out, small bag in hand, I stepped off the curb in front of my car. Something caught my eye. I stopped and looked down.
There, lying on the ground at my feet, was a folded fifty dollar bill.
In my off time, I buried myself in books, trying to escape. Until now, I'd only read required books in school. Never for pleasure. I was surprised at how entertaining they were. The more I read, the more I loved them. I became obsessed with books. And before long, I wanted to write one.
Actually, it was more like an overwhelming need I couldn't escape.
Unfortunately, I didn't know the first thing about writing. I researched the area and found a local junior college that offered Creative Writing classes. When I checked it out, the fee was $15 plus $35 for books. Fifty dollars. There was no way I could afford that. Not at this point, anyway.
I tried to put the idea out of my mind but couldn't. The urge became a knot in my stomach that wouldn't go away. Still, I knew I couldn't do anything.
When I finished the current book I was reading, I was late starting dinner. Using my tips for the day, I headed down to the corner store to pick up a few necessities. Since it was late, there were no customers, and I was able to
park right in front of the market.
When I came out, small bag in hand, I stepped off the curb in front of my car. Something caught my eye. I stopped and looked down.
There, lying on the ground at my feet, was a folded fifty dollar bill.