For the first post for this blog outside of the series that I started, I thought it would be a good idea to introduce myself to you as a writer, telling you how I became to be a writer.
I’ve been reading for as long as I can remember. My mother began reading to me as an infant and when I was old enough to talk, I began to tell the stories back to her just by looking at the pictures in the books since I couldn’t read yet. When I think about it, I guess my love of writing began at a very early age. Growing up, I’ve always had a very active imagination, but it never occurred to me to write my thoughts and ideas down and it certainly never occurred to me to become a writer.
In high school, I began writing for the paper for my own column. Nothing fancy, just book reviews and other topics that had to do with books. Everyone in school knew I was a book-worm and my editor thought it might be a good idea for a column where I wrote about the books that I had read.
When I was sixteen, my family was dealt with a huge blow when my Nana was diagnosed with lung cancer. She was optimistic about the diagnosis however was so sure that whatever treatment the doctor had her do would be successful. I wanted to believe her, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing would work and it didn’t help matters any that only five years before, my Papa had died from the same type of cancer.
In the hopes of coping with the bad news, I had thought it would be a good idea to keep a journal, but I had never been the kind of person to be able to keep a journal for more than a few days. Deciding that keeping a journal wasn’t for me, I just started making up stories and thus, my writing life began and I’ve been writing ever since.