I can't remember the day I started daydreaming about alternate realities. I can't truly remember when I didn't fantasize about some random scenario that backed me into a corner and certain demise. Sometimes I was the hero; other times the victim. I'd laugh; I'd cry. Once my mother caught me sobbing in my room early on a Saturday morning. I somehow got the idea that I was adopted and that my mother (who grounded me the night before - funny how that happens) was not really my mother and my real family was rich and would never, ever treat me in such a manner.
But as the plot played out in my head, my thoughts grew a bit more mature than I'd ever imagined. My would-be family wanted me and, of course, my adoptive family wanted me and the decision was left to me. My tears evolved from the realization that I belonged with my adoptive family - my real mother. That's when she came in, wondering why I wasn't up yet - didn't I know I had a kitchen to clean and other chores to do?
My childhood continued with so many great stories unraveling, including how to come out of the closet as a femme lesbian. Fortunately, it continues into my adulthood and, finally, onto paper. Some ideas have evolved from actual situations, embellished for dramatic effect. While others are just fantastical - yes, it's a word.
The day I finally tested the writing waters by entering a competition was a true testament to my belief in myself. Do I have any talent? Have I been spinning my wheels, wasting time all these years? Turns out I wasn't.
Now here I am, building a site to write about my writing, share my trials and tribulations - even throw in a sample or two - you're welcome. But seriously, I don't mind criticism - I don't like it - but I don't mind it, either. In fact, I need it. You'd be doing me a favor.
Thanks for stopping by. Let me know what you think.