A couple weeks ago, So You Think You Can Dance did segments on why each dancer started dancing and what it meant to her/him. For one happy-go-lucky guy, his mother said he wasn’t always like that. He didn’t do well in school and it was a bad time for him… until he discovered dance. She said he told her “dancing saved his life.”
Before that, I didn’t care if he stayed or not, but the segment made me care. I decided to do something similar with my fellow bloggers about writing. It’s because of Michelle Diener that we started Magical Musings, so she’s first. Enjoy!
I loved reading since the moment I learned how and read anything I could get my hands on from a very early age. But I also had stories of my own to tell, and initially, being the oldest of five children, I had four pairs of willing little ears to listen to my stories. I would tell my brothers and sisters stories in the car, lying out in the garden, on the way to school — no venue was safe :). I’d also make up really interesting games, and force them to be part of numerous plays, all scripted by myself, of course. Despite all this torture, my siblings are so supportive of me now — maybe it’s just relief that if they have to suffer, the rest of the world now has to suffer with them?
When I was ten or so, there was a series of manga style cartoons on TV. They were set in a futurist world with space stations, intergalactic warfare, strong kick-butt heroines who flew fighter jets and competed on an equal footing with men (even though they sometimes had pink or baby blue hair! Actually, I think the men had wild hair, too.) I absolutely loved it. Couldn’t get enough of it. I think it was the start of my love for sci-fi. But when the series ended, undaunted, I started writing my own tales of daring-do set off-world.
And then, something happened. I became less confident about writing my own creative work. I could write. That wasn’t in doubt. But I stuck to more non-fiction pieces, and then, at university, essays and papers on history and English literature. Looking back to what I write now, that was a great training ground, actually. I didn’t consider writing fiction at that point, although I had it in my head I would sometime in the future, because I was at a point in my life where I knew how much I didn’t know, if that makes sense? I didn’t think I had enough life experience to do any fiction justice.
So I dabbled, and hardly even did that, to tell the truth, until one birthday I decided if I was going to do it, I must do it. It took a while, and many mistakes and wandering around working things out, but I got there in the end. With the help of my critique partners, and other writing friends, my family’s support, the writing organizations I joined and my own stubborn determination to share the many stories I have inside me.