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Monday, August 29, 2011

Why I write

I thought it would be a good chance for me to tell you a little about me - the writer me.  DISCLAIMER  I will not edit this, so if there is a punctuation problem... deal with it.  If I have a run on sentence.... deal with it.  I write like I think... random.

I live in the South and I'm from the Midwest.  I live in a house, at the end of a street, with one husband (I think it's illegal to have more than that... I'm not a sister wife) and one teenager that apparently got a book titled ALL THE THINGS TO DO TO DRIVE YOUR PARENTS CRAZY and studied it.  He made an A+ .  I have a twenty year old daughter that bought the book ALL THINGS DRAMATIC and studied it.  She made an A+  My husband bought a book.... no he didn't.... he doesn't enjoy books the same way I do.  My husband bought a magazine... for the articles... no he didn't.  No... he says I never talk about him.  My husband is from the South and hates the Midwest, he eats loudly (he is having a bowl of Raisin Bran and I actually double checked he didn't have chips in the bowl)... he puts up with me and doesn't beat me (I'd beat me.... no I wouldn't, I'm an angel).

Why I write.... well, because the Easter Bunny left me poems in my basket - it was a treasure hunt and the poems were silly.... I'd have to find one egg and it would have a clue for the next egg, until there was a big prize at the end.... I love a big prize!
              Happy Easter Stefanie Dear
              Can you believe it's been a whole year?
              Put on your shoes, don't move like a snail
              Go take a look where the man leaves mail.

That was really elementary and they did get harder as I got older.... I would write the little poems and make my own treasure hunt and one year I got a book - Poetry for children... I loved that book... and I got Where the Sidewalk Ends.  One day in sixth grade a teacher read The Raven out loud to the class... my love for Edgar began that day.  I wrote poetry, it was dark, it was creepy, it was about death and life and pain and anguish... and my mom read it... Oh crap.  She rushed me to a shrink to make sure I wasn't going to out myself.... I was given a clean bill of life.  I loved the feeling of expression... I wrote silly stories, I wrote deep stories.... I wrote and wrote and wrote. I grew up and didn't have time... I've started so many books but never finished them.... and a character came to life in my head, his reality was brought to life with my keyboard.... Abel was born as was the story about the Great Wolf.

I love writing.  I love reading.  I love my husband.  I love my children.  I still write dark poetry.  I have about five characters for five different books living in my head.  

Repost from my Livejournal account

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