Everyone has a story.
Some people pass their stories down with anecdotes that get told year after year at family gatherings. Some people tell their stories through paintings or sculptures. Stories get told with poems, dance, and song.
I myself am more of a traditionalist. I tell my stories with words, and I love them all. Big words, little words–and especially alliterative words, because after all, words are a wonderful way to walk through the world. I love other people’s words–not just those lucky enough to get strung into stories that become best sellers. When I was a reporter for a small town newspaper, my favorite interview question was, “what’s your story?”…and I always loved to hear what people would tell me.
Words are how I make sense of life. There is something comforting about a blank piece of paper and a really good pen. I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember–childish poems, teenage diatribes about my favorite boy bands, articles and nonfiction pieces in high school, fiction in college. I started keeping a diary when I was 8, and every time I move I haul boxes full of my life history that I still refuse to let anyone read.
Words and stories are my passion. And right now that passion is intersected with the two other big deals in my life: motherhood and family. And when I love something…well, I write about it.
My four-year-old son JC, summed it up nicely the other day. We were at the doctor getting a check up and the doc asked him, “what do your Dad and Mom do?”
“Daddy’s the boss at work,” he answered after a moment. “And mama writes words.”
Thanks for stopping by on the first day of this particular story. There will be fables and fairy tales, reviews and writing prompts, all mixed in with a healthy dose of the hilarity that comes with living with a preschooler with a precocious vocabulary.
But before I get into all that, I need to ask you a very important question: what’s your story?