Path to Becoming a Writer by Karen S. Bennett
I AM a writer, but it was a long time before I knew that. My biggest sister, five years ahead of me, was a writer. I also had a sister two years older but she was of the crossword variety of girl. I didn’t know what a writer did exactly, but I did know that I could really sing, was a terrific roller skater, great at hop-scotch, a baton twirler, and a low board diving competitor. I was also a pretty good artist and later played a cello, but had no talent for algebra I or II, which seemed to really count in school.
I didn’t write.
I noticed pets, people, baldness, feelings, faces, habits, tics, leg braces, and simply stored away those observations. My lovely mother always had cake in the kitchen. Also pie.
I did not write.
As predicted, I grew up, enjoyed the heck out of activities in school then went to NYC to art school, went to adult ballet classes, and finally went to karaoke with friends to smoky bars to sing with the words right in front of my eyes, with full orchestral accompaniment! Interspersed in there was a job at Saks Fifth Avenue in the umbrella department, a charcoal portrait job at Atlantic City, N.J.’s Boardwalk, was a breakfast/lunch waitress – small tips and very busy. Always a church choir singer, ready to sing at any occasion with others or alone. I was the dinner singer at a couple of restaurants, but I moved, ending that little piece of heaven.
No writing.
I attended Catholic instruction, converted, married a man with a schizophrenic diagnosis, had three wonderful children, got divorced, had a church annulment, he contested: so got second divorce, and second annulment and went on Welfare, suffering the poverty and burning the candle at both ends while attending nursing school. Still sang in choir, Hallelujah.
Not writing.
Kids were Evangeline, Cameron, and Gregory, three great, smart, talented, and worthy children, who were so darned obedient. Good thing, because I needed them to be good. Eventually, they show up fictionalized in short stories, and in memoir.
I started nursing school in Staten Island, taking buses to day and night classes until my first nursing job at NYC’s Rikers Island Jail. Years later, on the day Princess Diana married Prince Charles, I packed us up and moved to Atlanta, Georgia. Emory University offered a nurse practitioner course in Corrections. Hey, right up my alley.
Still not writing, but because of the interesting characters and surroundings, I sketched the environs of the physical jail for future reference, whatever that might be. I made notes on medical conditions and had mental notes burned into me when the girl with her hands cuffed behind her back was brought to me, her trousers open, a teary face and mussed hair. Her claim of officer abuse was dismissed by the brass.
With my Masters Degree from Emory University completed I moved the boys, the dog, three cats and me up to Baltimore. Evangeline attend University of Georgia. Cameron, was absorbed into the Baltimore School for the Arts. Gregory was in Polytechnic Institute for engineering. He “got” engineering. Who was he? He was the boy who played piano, so I kept him.
In my fifties I began to notice the opposite sex, because I had finished raising children and had a real income. Time to eat out, meet others in my station of life. I answered some ads in the Baltimore Magazine’s singles section, had a few dates, followed by a year of Singles Friday night dances and met FRANK. Here everything changes. To make a very complicated life report very short, (it tires me to think back,) I honestly thought old people who married later in life married for companionship. Who knew?
Each of my sentences could now end with “but who knew?” Frank and I were very much alike, but who knew? I respected him, enjoyed some times, laughed sometimes, he had a van, so we drove on ALCAN highway to Alaska. I divorced him in 2010 after almost ten years of me saying, “Who knew?” We are well divorced, but are in frequent contact — living apart.
THEN I STARTED to WRITE. Back to night classes, to conferences, joined writing groups, wrote and edited. I had an excellent memory and a bent for fiction.
“Lie, Cheat and Steal” is about diving competition.
“The Trampoline Champ” about winning the trampoline competition in community college. “Our Lady of the Snows” about getting my ears pierced.
“I ate the Whole Pizza,” about not having enough to eat.
“The Value of Pi,” about the value of pie!
“St. Leo” is about the humane Welfare employee who helped me in a time of dire need.
I wrote stories featuring Alaska, Vietnam, Russia, South Africa and states in the lower forty-eight. My prison book won first place from The Maryland Writers Association in 2006, wrote another novel about a kidnapped ballerina, and a light-hearted travel book including lucky numbers and a séance.
I thank God that my good health has allowed a happy life. I lived it, and now I’m writing about it. THAT is my long trail – My Path to Writing:
“Beautiful Horseflesh,” a literary fiction set in Florida in 1999
“The Farewell Tour,” playful romp set around the world in 1998
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Beautiful Horseflesh, a literary fiction set in Florida in 1999, follows the family and their beloved horse farm as their lives are turned upside down by the arrival of the beautiful filly Bumble B, a favorite to win the upcoming high-stakes race. Available June 2, 2021 from Apprentice House Press. See more about Karen S. Bennett here: https://www.karensbennett.com/
Links to buy Beautiful Horseflesh: https://www.
Category: Contemporary Women Writers
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