My Life as Carrie

Many, many years ago, my mom and I tried to start a writing club with a few of her friends. We would select a topic and everyone would write a short story or poem or whatever they fancied. We would meet once a month and read aloud to each other and critic. This happened for one month. I am not really sure where it all fell apart.
Writing was always one of my favorite things to do growing up. Once in elementary school we had a writing symposium and took some seminars over the course of two days. At the end we had an assembly. One of the local newscasters MC'ed the final assembly. He had chosen one submission to read aloud to the entire school. It was mine. It was such a great feeling. Then, in a composition class at community college, my professor asked if he could read my paper aloud. He did and he had turned my conclusion into a transparency that he used to show the rest of the class just how it was supposed to be done. Again, it was a great feeling. Both events were slightly embarrassing, but I was proud of myself nonetheless.
The story I wrote for the writing club was about the day my father passed away and all the things that took place that day, physical and emotional. Everyone (all three of them) really liked it. It got me thinking about an idea: to write a collection of short stories about all the wacky things that have happened to me in my life. Some funny, some tragic, some run-of-the-mill. I even created a list of ideas, but never even started.
Again, I find myself contemplating this idea. Don't get me wrong, I am not expecting to get published or anything. Just a way to therapeutically get my creative juices flowing and maybe share them with a few folks. We'll see if I can stick with it this time.