I love words.
I love magazines, newspapers, and libraries full of books. Language haunts me, in letters, poetry, and love-notes posted on the bathroom mirror. I can even love advertisements, because I appreciate a clever turn of phrase. Precise statements and provocative arguments are compelling. I love vivid imagery and raw, vulnerable prose.
I. Love. Words.
I write because I have to.
Writing is how I tell the story of my life to myself and others. I say that I am a talk-to-think person. Sometimes I don’t know what I think until I hear it come out of my mouth. Sometimes even I am surprised by what I say. (Sometimes I want to stuff the words back in.)
Writing has the same effect for me, the same power, except better.
With writing, I can edit and re-write. I can have the initial unbridled word-dump, be surprised by what I have written, and then refine it to say more precisely what I mean to say.
I joke that I cannot tell the short version of any story. That’s not always a good thing. 😉 So, much of my editing is shaving words. Saying what I mean with an economy of words makes me happy.
I wrote my first children’s story in collaboration with my best friend in eighth grade. The story took the top prize in a small contest, and gave me that first thrill of seeing my words in print. Writing children’s books became my dream – a dream that remained on the back burner.
Since then, more writing. I’ve been published in local and community newspapers, and I wrote a regular op-ed column for a (now-defunct) website. For nearly 20 years off-and-on, I’ve done freelance writing for corporate and non-profit clients: advertising, marketing materials, press releases, newsletters, and more recently, website content.
Now it’s time to return to my first dream — a dream that has grown and evolved while it simmered over the years. I’m working on fiction now: first a YA novel, with other story ideas impatiently waiting their turn.
Back to meet Jet.