Why I Write

My journey with writing began in high school, but did not take the form of actually writing. I, as were most teenagers, was a fantasizer. Whether it be my favourite teen idol, Toronto Maple Leaf hockey player, or high school crush, I fantasized and relayed these “stories” to my friends telling them, “I had this dream…”

I don’t know where the idea of writing these stories came from. I had a couple of friends who also liked to “tell stories” and we wrote them. They were about us and the aforementioned teen idol, hockey player, or school jock.

That is all we wrote about. Long after these friends disappeared from my life I took one of those stories and started to re-write it changing the names. Since I am not that familiar with Hollywood I changed the setting. The next thing I knew I was changing the whole story except for the original premise.

Going back further into my past I can thank my Barbie dolls for honing the imagination God gifted to me. Barbies, baby dolls, make-believe – these were all mediums for my imagination.
I took Creative Writing grade 10. In that class we were required to write a journal. I have been writing journals of varying topics ever since.

I dabbled in poetry and do so more now, but never thought I would write articles or even short stories. My so-called dreams were long-winded taking at least an hour to relay to my friends.

In a nutshell I am a storyteller. I get my ideas from my own fantasies, which aren’t always good. I imagine the bad happening and turn that into a story. Or I take events from my own life, or someone else’s, and create stories from them.

I have quite an imagination and can dream up (no pun intended) great tales, or what I believe to be great. Though I have progressed to poet and perhaps journalist, I think of myself as a storyteller first – wife and mother second.