In No Particular Order (or age)
1. I began to write before I could read...
Okay, not really. I scribbled on a page what I thought looked like writing, then showed it off to my mother. I actually thought I had written something, because it looked just like the scribbles I’d seen on paper, so I asked her what it said. I wanted to know what brilliant thing I had written in my scribbles. She just laughed and said, “it doesn’t say anything.”
Guess I really wanted to write.
Okay, real answer… I don’t know exactly. Ten at the latest. I would write journals in school, I wrote a short story called, “the haunted hotel”, and sort of half started another one about a girl who falls through a hole into a fantasy dimension. And I wrote a story about killing a giant that my teacher kept saying was too violent. Guess she’d never watched the Power Rangers.
Don’t remember what age I was for all of these, though. Relatively young.
2. Writing gives me an escape, the same way reading does. It’s an outlet, a form of expression, and a skill to get lost in. Immersion into anything I enjoy is a way to step outside myself and leave all the raging thoughts and doubts going on in there.
3. This one is pretty standard. I want to publish something that sells. Something that people can get lost in the way I get lost in my favourite books. Specifically, I have a working series I would like to publish one day. Sometimes, that feels out or reach. I wish my imagination could escape all my physical, ah, troubles, but it’s a struggle. Sometimes even reading is difficult. Still, the dream is there, however far away it may seem, most days.