Last night, I met with my soul sister aka writer friend, who is keeping me on task, and generously taking time to read the first draft of my novel. Her enthusiasm is contagious and I find myself eager to see how this book ends. As I continue to travel the journey of this book, I find I get a little giddy over a few of my characters and their twisted persona. I am the puppet master.
When I started seriously writing many moons ago, my audience was children. But, I found it difficult to draw in my demographic and using sentence enhancers was frowned upon, so I just stopped. I dappled in a variety of genres, but there is this story within me that grabbed me by the throat with an urgency to be told.
Writing is therapeutic. Many of the characters are the best and worst parts of people that I know. Many are simply figments of my own colorful imagination. If I have a resentment, annoyance, or general irritation, I can fuel a character with those emotions which allow me to reconcile things. It is powerful and liberating. Since those in my life aren’t interested in me running their lives, I can turn my expertise on my own imaginary friends. It just confirms that my twisted ray of sunshine goes along way.