My Writing Journey Started In ‘96

My writing journey started with a recommendation from an old friend. He was an Italian man, looked like a gangster and spoke like one too. When he spoke, he looked into your eyes and spoke into your heart. He would pause for dramatic effect but to everyone he met, he was Joe. His empathy was felt when he would gesture with his hands manicuring the air as if to etch out his descriptions better. Joe would always grab my bicep, reel me and tell me some hidden truth.

I remember being exasperated with a family matter with my Dad. I was telling Joe about it. Joe looked at me knowing he did not have the energy to listen to anymore whining about what I was saying and simply said, “You know what, you need to write. Like a journal. Write what you are feeling.”

“Why? What good would that do?”

“You would know what you are trying to say. Write it out. Understand it.” Joe would say. He laid into every syllable of ‘understand’ and if it were a repeating bullet. My first reaction was that Joe didn’t want to hear how I felt when the man seemed to be the pinnacle in understanding a man’s heart loaded with struggle at my young age of 20.

Yet, that recommendation wasn’t a flippant response. Joe meant what he said. Everything he said would hit the heart. I wasn’t the only one who felt that way about Joe. It was his trademark. I remember him describing his life, “When I die, I want people to weep. I want them to really hurt when I’m gone.” His eyes would pierce as he would say it.