Chapter 10. “You’re Gonna Be A Great Writer Someday, Gordie”

WHEN I WAS 14 and doing publicity for Stand By Me, I was often asked by interviewers if I was a writer like my character. This question usually went along with such deeply insightful queries as, “What’s your favorite color?” and “Do you have a girlfriend?” (“Purple” and “Samantha Fox[11] hasn’t returned my calls” were the respective answers.)

So many people asked me if I was a writer, I began to think that I should be a writer. But I wasn’t a writer, right? I was an actor. By the time I was 14, I’d been a professional actor for over half my life, and I took it for granted that I would continue to be a professional actor for the rest of it. I can even recall this stupid career test I had to take in 10th grade, where a woman asked me, “What profession would you like to pursue as an adult?”

“Acting,” I said.

She noted this on my permanent record, and said, “Okay . . . now what’s your realistic short-term goal?”

“Acting,” I said.

“Okay . . . and how do you plan to earn money until you go to college?”

“Acting,” I said.

The rest of the class period was pretty much "Who’s On First,” with “Acting” filling in at third base.

The truth is, I always enjoyed creative writing in school, and English was always my best subject. But the thought of pursuing it as a career never entered my mind until—well, until about six months after Dancing Barefoot was published.

As a matter of fact, after the Stand By Me publicity cycle ended, the idea of me ...

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