Excerpt #56 from A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Nincompoop, wherein I fail forward into a rewarding life. WRITTEN & ILLUSTRATED by PETER MOORE, NOT SOME F'ING A.I. BOT
Like you, I write daily. It began in third grade, when I began keeping a journal that recorded what I had for lunch (baloney sandwich, milk). To this day I call my journal Lunch.
I prefer to call it scientifically prepared sandwich protein. I ate it throughout my 6 years of elementary school, according to Lunch. And if you are what you eat, I am... scientifically prepared.
Thanks for the glimpses into Nincompoop. My earliest passion project was dance, which I turned into a 10-year professional career, then another 10 years decades later as a dance-coach and choreographer for young gymnasts. As I teeter on the precipice of 60, I no longer use my training in a professional capacity, but once a dancer always a dancer, and the moves creep out now and again for fun (like a recent IG reel expressing my take on imposter syndroming my way into the query trenches for my memoir). I applaud your dedication (addiction?) to journaling and working with words throughout your life. The outcome is a benefit to all of us, your readers. Carry on, wayward son.
Lay your weary head to rest, and cry no more! Isn’t it astonishing to see what sticks with you for a lifetime? I was all puffed up with my dreams of becoming a novelist, as a twenty-year old. But my stealth writing in my journal turned out to be the lifelong pursuit, outside of my professional work. I did it because it was uniquely my work to do, and it was self-sustaining because of that. I see that in your dance obsession as well. There was something in the way you moved, I guess!
Sadly, lip gloss. And I’ve kept this ridiculous habit well into my late 60s. We can’t all be humourous writers! Oh, I’ve also kept and grown my love of, and attraction to, writers exactly like you! PS Attracted to the writing, you understand. With appreciation 👏👏👏
Like you, I write daily. It began in third grade, when I began keeping a journal that recorded what I had for lunch (baloney sandwich, milk). To this day I call my journal Lunch.
Ha. What a load of baloney!
I prefer to call it scientifically prepared sandwich protein. I ate it throughout my 6 years of elementary school, according to Lunch. And if you are what you eat, I am... scientifically prepared.
Thanks for the glimpses into Nincompoop. My earliest passion project was dance, which I turned into a 10-year professional career, then another 10 years decades later as a dance-coach and choreographer for young gymnasts. As I teeter on the precipice of 60, I no longer use my training in a professional capacity, but once a dancer always a dancer, and the moves creep out now and again for fun (like a recent IG reel expressing my take on imposter syndroming my way into the query trenches for my memoir). I applaud your dedication (addiction?) to journaling and working with words throughout your life. The outcome is a benefit to all of us, your readers. Carry on, wayward son.
Lay your weary head to rest, and cry no more! Isn’t it astonishing to see what sticks with you for a lifetime? I was all puffed up with my dreams of becoming a novelist, as a twenty-year old. But my stealth writing in my journal turned out to be the lifelong pursuit, outside of my professional work. I did it because it was uniquely my work to do, and it was self-sustaining because of that. I see that in your dance obsession as well. There was something in the way you moved, I guess!
On the Road Again...I'll follow along with your sometimes VERY crazy travels. You describe them so well.
Sadly, lip gloss. And I’ve kept this ridiculous habit well into my late 60s. We can’t all be humourous writers! Oh, I’ve also kept and grown my love of, and attraction to, writers exactly like you! PS Attracted to the writing, you understand. With appreciation 👏👏👏