In the Beginning...

It's hard to remember when I started making up stories.  I was an only child and expected to keep myself entertained when not dragged to adult meetings my parents attended.  I obviously had the opportunity to work on a vivid imagination, helped along by plenty of books and possibly that imaginary friend my mother told me I once had.  I had no idea at the time she told me what she was talking about, and I still don't.  Nor do I know at what age I was at the time this "friend" appeared.  Me?!  An imaginary friend?!

You can read my bio on my website, but a short version is that I wrote plays when I was old enough to string a few words together, and then forced the neighborhood kids or my cousins on holidays to perform them, quickly leading to them getting tired of me bossing them around.  I wrote a couple of War and Peace length novels after high school graduation, and hope they found a home in the trash somewhere.  Yes, they were bad, but I had a blast writing them.  I never considered being a writer, at least not that I remember.  It was just something fun to do.

By sophomore year in high school, my passion was the stage.  After being given the lead in the annual Style Show--a semi-play within a stage show of girls showing off the clothing made in Home Ec--I sadly missed winning the part of Zaneeta Shinn, the mayor's daughter in The Music Man, and instead played in the pit band.  That wasn't such a bad thing, since I could sneak out often to go neck with my boyfriend. ;)  Junior year proved more successful drama-wise (boyfriend-wise was a mixed bag), when I was given the role of Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion, thanks to the fact that I was the only female who could do a decent cockney accent. The following spring, I was Vinnie, the mother, in Life with Father and was to play Annie Oakley (my childhood hero) in Annie Get Your Gun the next year, but our drama teacher had a nervous breakdown, and it was called off.  (I told those boys to stop trying to sabotage the production!)

But what does all that play-acting have to do with writing?  I've come to the conclusion that I'm more comfortable being someone I'm not than being who I am.  When acting in a role, I become the character.  When writing, I become ALL the characters!  I'm beginning to wonder if this isn't some kind of serious mental disorder.  But I suspect that no one cares, as long as I remain harmless to others.  As for writing romance, is it possible that it stems from sneaking out of pit band and rehearsals?  Hmmm....