53 Years as a writer- how it happened

My first hint that I wanted to become
a writer began in high school. Sort of
like that first yellow bloom on a tomato
plant, my English teacher, my aunt Lillian
Montgomery picked up on
something like that tiny bloom
that gave her a hint that her gangly,
awkward nephew might possibly
have an inborne ability to
string words together in a meaningful
way.
I resented Aunt Lillian at first
because she was tougher on me
than others in the class. Anything
I wrote was returned to
me dripping in red ink pointing out the
mistakes I had made, scratching out
something I had written and replacing
what was scratched out with how I
could have said something better.