Pretentious reading

I imagine myself to be an aspirant writer. There is no basis in fact for this description. I haven't written a word worth reading. I write the (very) occasional blogpost. For a few months I wrote a rather tedious opinion column for my local newspaper. People tell me they think I can write, but that's usually based on the corporate work I used to do. My editor always said he was pleased with my newspaper column, but never really explained why - I think he was just grateful to get something to fill the space. I have always wanted to write since I was a child. I want to write now, in part because it's becoming increasingly obvious that no one will pay me to do anything else, so this is all that's left. I'm not sure I have aspirations to be a writer so much as pretensions to be one.

I have two ideas for novels I think I'd like to write, and one short story. It's not much, but it's a start. I have been reading books about how to write fiction and taking selectively from them. One problem I have is that I don't read much fiction, never have. The books tell me that all writers are voracious readers and are fantastically well read. I'm not, on either count. That will probably show. So, my plan is to write for the enjoyment (to me) of writing, and if I should, by fluke, produce something that someone else enjoys reading, then that's a bonus.

These are my two recent acquisitions. The book on the top I've mentioned before. The one underneath is full of tips for getting an agent, getting printed in magazines, getting a book published. It lists all the people to whom you can send your work to have it rejected. I bought it as a declaration of intent. It says: time for me to write. Whether or not I'll ever actually open it remains to be seen.