Monday, February 13, 2012
I believe it started in the bedroom I used to share with my little sister, the one with the strawberry wallpaper and the closet that never got me into Narnia no matter how many times I tried to get in.
Back then, my little sister and I used to tell each other stories, to pass the time until we were sleepy, and the game was this: come up with three titles, let the other person pick which one she wanted to hear, and tell the story. Most of the titles were easy to imagine a story for, like, The House in the Woods, or The Witch's Cat, or The Last Princess (I'm making these up by the way - I honestly don't remember a single title or story). But I remember always trying to try to make one title sound more interesting than the others because it was the one that gave me an instant idea. And usually, this worked; my sister would pick the correct title and get a half-way decent off-the-cuff story made up by a 12 year old. But sometimes she would pick the wrong title, the one I had no clue what it was about, and I'd have to come up with something.Which I did.
After I graduated to paper and pen, most of my efforts were cheap copies of things I'd read, like the story I wrote about a girl who tamed a wild horse. But others were downright imaginative, like the Thanksgiving essay I wrote in 5th grade from the turkey's point of view or THE PEARL MOUSE, which I co-authored with my best friend Dawn D'onofrio, in 6th grade, or the overly dramatic HAPPY BIRTHDAY CATHY (which did not end well for Cathy I can tell you).
Anyway, I think I've always wanted to tell stories, even from the time I was young enough to get sent to bed early - a punishment my sister relished because that meant we could entertain one another until we fell asleep. And while it's been a long time since I got sent to bed early, or had to come up with a story in seconds, I guess I'm still playing that game.
I'm just a little better at it now :)