I am....

August, 1944 - Scottsbluff, Nebraska - Barbara Neeley Journal Entry Someday years from now I will probably reread these pages and wonder why, in my youth, I thought I could write and attempted to put my thoughts and reactions into words. First, I assure myself very emphatically that I definitely have no talent along literary lines, and also that my extreme frankness sometimes could be described as almost brutal. These few pages do not develop into any particular story, except perhaps my own. Nor it is an autobiography (God forbid - I’m not that interesting). Shall we say it’s a “Collection of Recollections”. Frankly, one of the main reasons I want to write this is because I don’t want to entirely forget some of the interesting personalities whom I will describe later and I know I shall as the years pass. This little epistle started over three years ago. It starts then because that is when “yours truly” started to lead a double life. By this I mean that at times (evenings and w

I've been writing online for nearly 20 years now, which is hard to believe.  I have a 23 year old diploma that indicates I have a degree in English that sits, gathering dust, in my basement.  And now, as I'm working on my first book, I've been in a cerebral battle with myself as I say "I'm not a writer." I'm a real estate agent, a mom, a wife, an amateur chef, a former piano teacher, a blogger, a fill-in-the-blank with anything except a "real" writer. Except that is bullshit.  I'm a writer.  And I'm developing my craft.  I'm a long way from the great authors that line my bookshelves in my basement writing nook.  I'm probably even a long way from some of the crappy ones that I can't force myself to throw away. Thanks to my first ever creative writing class at Lighthouse Writers Workshop I'm developing a writing practice, I'm finding my voice, and my character's voices.  My current book project is a piece of h