February 1, 1980

Friday; I"m 16.

I think this month I will try to write something serious. I specify this month because every month I must churn out 5 typed pages of material per month. It's a pact Tim D. and I agreed upon. Every month, Tim and I have to compose 5 typewritten pages of orginal material, prose or poetry. In not doing so, a fine of $5 is invoked and must be paid to Don M. We started in the middle of last month, so for that month it was only 2 pages. This pact was created so Tim and I would have no excuse for not writing anything. We both like to write, and I think we both have some talent for writing, though in my case it may not be obvious to anyone just reading my journal.

I'm choosing to write serious this month, mainly because most of what I write is humorous. I have a reputation in my English class of always writing humorous works for my assignments. My humor lies on the side of Monty Python. Every time Mrs. Basich [later in the year she married and became Mrs. Idzak] announces a writing assignment, people wonder what I'm going to write. When we read works out loud, people usually ask to hear mine. I'll try and save some examples [I do have them now in 2008!]. Well, now that I'm finished boasting, I hae to think up something to write. Probably a short story. Right now, that's my favorite area to work in. that, and essays.

Well, it's getting late, so I'll be seeing you. Bye.

January 26, 1980

Saturday; I'm 16.

I'm at mom's now, in Cleveland. Joe is outside fixing a water pump in his car. Mom's taking a nap. I'm just lying here in front of one of those portable heaters, writing in my room. I ran out of ink, so I'm switching to back-up pencil.

January 24, 1980

Thursday; I'm 16.

Tim N. thinks I'm going to be a writer.  I tell him that I want to be an astrophysicist, but he's not convinced.  He's really sure that I'm going to be a writer.  I don't know if I have enough writing talent to live off of it.  I do believe that I have some talent for writing (from dad) but do I have enough?  I wouldn't mind being a writer.  It's never too far from my mind.  Tomorrow I'm going to visit mom and Joe in Cleveland.  They're living together.  I don't mind.  I hate what I"m doing now.  As I write this, I compose in my mind what I'm going to write.  Yet half of it never gets written down!  As Gordon Lightfoot says, "If you could read my mind" I've written a whole short story.  For english class.