I’ve always loved to read. There is something magical about being able to escape into the pages of a great book and go anywhere, be anyone, and experience a different life. To me, it’s the best way to be on a cattle drive without getting dusty, be shot at without being in danger, explore Regency England without the stench, solve crimes, fall in love over and over without commitment, or see the pyramids without getting dusty (again with the dust, it’s a deterrent). The cheapest way to travel for sure, especially time travel.
A lot of my childhood memories revolve around which book I was reading at the time events occurred. I spent a lot of time reading. Even as an adult there were weekends when I had no other responsibilities and I would get through five to seven books. Libraries and bookstores are my happy places. I dated a guy once who took me to the gym for our first date (there was no second). His whole personality changed once he walked through that door and he became confident. He took me around to every machine and introduced me to each one, which is why I couldn’t move the next day. The gym was his happy place. Books are mine.
Writing is as natural as breathing to me. Fiction only, though. Thank you cards, cover letters, interoffice emails, and blog posts not so much. College essays were always easy – but that’s pretty much fiction.
You know those activities that you get started on and then time just slips away, along with any desire to do anything else? You don’t stop to eat, drink, or use the bathroom, and once you stop you realize that you’re tired, hungry, thirsty, and really have to pee? That’s writing for me. Some people say that writing is hard. For me, getting to sleep at night when I’m working out a plot point is hard. Keeping an explanation of one of my stories to an elevator pitch length is hard. Trying to steer my wayward characters back into line is hard. Caring about doing the laundry when I just had a great idea that needs explored is hard. But, writing? Not hard.
Stories are what tie us together as humans. They are responsible for giving us a shared experience and letting us connect and understand one another. Without stories we would have to do all the living ourselves, and we would miss out on so much. Here’s to living vicariously, and fully!