According to my mom, I’ve always been a writer.
And she mailed me a big box of old sketch pads to prove it.
When I was a kid, I used to sit down for hours with a sketch pad and a box of crayons. But I wasn’t drawing. I was writing.
The catch was that I couldn’t spell very well. Or at all, really. (Full disclosure: I still can’t spell worth a damn.)
So my dialog bubbles were just scribbles.
Mom claims I’d then “read” the stories to her and, no matter how many times I re-read my book, the story would never change.
Looking back now, a solid 30+ years later, I can’t remember the stories.
I’m not even exactly sure what all those pictures meant. (Is that a devil? Was my mom, you know, worried about me?)
But I’m starting to think I might have been destined to write paranormal romance…
After the big kiss, of course, comes a grand exit on a magical red dog-like creature.
But hey, at least the story had an HEA. 🙂
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