When did I become a storyteller? Was there a moment when I knew? Or has it always been a part of who I am?
I was a shy child, happiest when I was reading or creating elaborate backstories for my Barbies. I never wrote them down, but they were stories all the same. I spent hours on the floor in my bedroom, helping Barbie negotiate her love life as she decided between the Ken with facial hair and one of the G.I. Joes that I pilfered from my brothers.
Even then, I was all about a happily-ever-after.
I love fairy tales. I guess I’ve always believed that love can move mountains, that people can conquer whatever tries to tear them apart. I guess I’ve always believed that, in the end, love is what matters most.
I suppose that’s why I felt so connected when I opened my very first romance novel. I was twelve, I think, and it was a sweetly romantic Barbara Cartland book. I’m pretty sure it was love at first read.
Those stories allowed me to dream. Those stories gave me hope. Those stories helped me escape from the challenges of adolescence, at least for a little while.
Those stories made me imagine my own, at times. But at the time, I lacked the confidence to try. So I contented myself with inhabiting other authors’ worlds, rather than creating my own. At times, I imagined different lives for the characters that I loved. At times, I knew that I had my own stories to tell.
But I didn’t know where to start.
And then, suddenly, I did.
I can’t explain why a mediocre if sweet rom-com inspired me to write fan fiction. I suppose it’s because I wanted more. I wanted to fill in the plot holes. And I wanted to see what happened after the first kiss.
So I did. I sat at my computer and allowed the characters that I love to take me on a journey. I wrote the story as I wanted it.
But I only wrote it for me. At the time, I didn’t even know what fanfiction was. And then I stumbled on a website dedicated to my sweet, imperfect rom-com and, to my surprise and delight, I found a community of people who loved it too.
With their support and encouragement, I found my voice. I reconnected with the playful, creative child, and I allowed myself to tell stories again.
Eventually, my own characters introduced themselves to me. They had stories to share, and they wanted me to write them. I’m not completely sure why, but I listened, and I’m grateful that I did.
I love getting to know the cast of characters in my head. They surprise me and take me to places I never imagined. In many ways, I feel like they’re the real storytellers.
As for me, I’m just the lucky writer who gets to share them with the world.
So, to answer my own questions, yes, I’ve always been a storyteller. And, yes, there was a defining moment when I finally understood that fact.
So watch this space! Soon you’ll meet my dear friend Lizzie Kincaid and learn just what kind of surprises life has in store for her.
I was a shy child, happiest when I was reading or creating elaborate backstories for my Barbies. I never wrote them down, but they were stories all the same. I spent hours on the floor in my bedroom, helping Barbie negotiate her love life as she decided between the Ken with facial hair and one of the G.I. Joes that I pilfered from my brothers.
Even then, I was all about a happily-ever-after.
I love fairy tales. I guess I’ve always believed that love can move mountains, that people can conquer whatever tries to tear them apart. I guess I’ve always believed that, in the end, love is what matters most.
I suppose that’s why I felt so connected when I opened my very first romance novel. I was twelve, I think, and it was a sweetly romantic Barbara Cartland book. I’m pretty sure it was love at first read.
Those stories allowed me to dream. Those stories gave me hope. Those stories helped me escape from the challenges of adolescence, at least for a little while.
Those stories made me imagine my own, at times. But at the time, I lacked the confidence to try. So I contented myself with inhabiting other authors’ worlds, rather than creating my own. At times, I imagined different lives for the characters that I loved. At times, I knew that I had my own stories to tell.
But I didn’t know where to start.
And then, suddenly, I did.
I can’t explain why a mediocre if sweet rom-com inspired me to write fan fiction. I suppose it’s because I wanted more. I wanted to fill in the plot holes. And I wanted to see what happened after the first kiss.
So I did. I sat at my computer and allowed the characters that I love to take me on a journey. I wrote the story as I wanted it.
But I only wrote it for me. At the time, I didn’t even know what fanfiction was. And then I stumbled on a website dedicated to my sweet, imperfect rom-com and, to my surprise and delight, I found a community of people who loved it too.
With their support and encouragement, I found my voice. I reconnected with the playful, creative child, and I allowed myself to tell stories again.
Eventually, my own characters introduced themselves to me. They had stories to share, and they wanted me to write them. I’m not completely sure why, but I listened, and I’m grateful that I did.
I love getting to know the cast of characters in my head. They surprise me and take me to places I never imagined. In many ways, I feel like they’re the real storytellers.
As for me, I’m just the lucky writer who gets to share them with the world.
So, to answer my own questions, yes, I’ve always been a storyteller. And, yes, there was a defining moment when I finally understood that fact.
So watch this space! Soon you’ll meet my dear friend Lizzie Kincaid and learn just what kind of surprises life has in store for her.
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