Today, I am featuring Me.
Presumptuous, I know.
But since we already talked about sex, I thought we might get to know each a little better.
I have been writing since I can remember. It always surprises me when I meet other writers who say they are working on their first book. I have notebooks and notebooks of stories. Some complete, some not, some perfectly horrendous, some not so bad. Now, I have graduated to external hard drives. But, I have no idea how many I have written.
I blame it on being an only child.
I loved being an only child. I never felt lonely or incomplete. But I did spend a lot of time making up stories to entertain myself which brings me to my first confession for today.
Until I was about 11 or 12, I thought everyone talked to themselves when they were alone. Not just making up stories or creative play, but "Oh, I like this song." or "I left my book at school. Wonder if we are going to have a test tomorrow."
Evidently, most people keep these thoughts in their head. Mine tend to spill out of my mouth.
CONFESSION #2 :
Until the past few years, no one knew I was still writing. I chose a teaching career and wrote only for myself. A series of events in my personal life and a thirty birthday led me to a grand revelation. If I was already 30, then someday, I was going to be 40 (!) . And that could not happen without me at least attempting to be published. So, after a long talk with my husband, I took a deep breathe and sent an email to my two closest friends with a few chapters attached. To my complete astonishment, no one told me I was silly.
I am terrified of failing at this.
So, that's me. Let's hear about you? Did you talk to yourself? Are you working on your first book or do you have 32,405 (give or take a few) in a rubber maid tub in your attic?
Anything you want to confess?
Come on. It's Tuesday. Tell Me Your Story.