When you get too old to play with dolls (Melissa Robbins)

          As kids, my best friend and I acted out stories we read.  Naturally, we created our own adventures with our dolls too.  When I got too old to play with dolls, my active imagination had to do something and I turned to writing.  Perhaps those voices in my head started early. 

            I had to write, but it was in secret.  I kept my stories hidden from all eyes.  It was my version of diary writing.  To a teen girl, my life was boring and I lived vicariously through my characters who were far braver than me as Fox sailed on the high seas with pirates and Moira battled Scottish ghosts, curses, and murder.  My Fox story came about as a ‘what if’ (there’s that active imagination coming out).  My dad was a sailor and I pretended what would happen if we got caught in a thunderstorm, because my mom would NEVER let Dad and I sail if there was even a remote chance of a sprinkle.  Moira’s story started off as a dream.  Also in my teen years, I experienced love and heartbreak.  By writing about romance and adventure, my characters found those things that eluded me.      

           The writing slacked off until my son was born with heart defects.  Spending hours in the hospital, I wrote to keep my mind from going bonkers and to pass the time.  Those characters, the early incarnates of Wren and Company became my support group (my family) in a time of need. 

    

        Now I have a couple of hours to myself when my kids are at school.  I use that time to live vicariously through my characters again.  Not because I don’t like my life or that it’s boring (boring is good), it’s like hanging out with old friends and I want to see what they’re up to.