When I was in 6th grade, my teacher, Mr. Dorn, had us start creative writing. I’m sure we dabbled in earlier grades, but now we were working on it in earnest. I hated writing. I hated being forced to be creative. So I wrote a story about goblins who murdered writers. Mr. Dorn was totally unamused, but who was he to stifle my creative process? I never voluntarily wrote anything, creatively speaking, again until I was an adult. I wrote 3 plays. 2 of which were deliberately shocking because I was barely out of my teens and the other just gratuitously preachy. I’m embarrassed to have written them, but it was my way of getting “the voices” or characters in my head to just shut the hell up.

Now I’m in my 30’s and finally writing for fun. I have two books I’m seriously working on and two others I’ve shelved for now because they’re distracting to the other characters. I worry about being self satisfying and pedantic in my style and my choices, but it’s just fun. Liam and Sara think I need to get them published. I’m not so sure about that. I keep joking that I’m George McFly and “I can’t take that kind of rejection”, but it’s also because I have no idea of how I’d even go about finding an agent or a publisher or any of that crap. Besides, I just want to have fun with the people in my head.


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