It's Time

I love a good story. In fact, favorite memory time:

My mom loved to read to us. So one winter, she read The Miracle of Miss Willie. It was a Mormon tear-jerker. I loved every minute of it. My mom would sit outside my bedroom, which I shared with my sister, and my brothers' bedroom. She rest her back against the wall, just at the top of the steps. And we would listen from our beds. I remember when the end of the story came, my sister and me lying in bed weeping at the beautiful ending. I was so heart-broken. I might have even heard a few sobs from the room next door, but we'll keep that a secret, shall we? Wouldn't want to impugn my brothers' manly reputations.

I always loved having someone tell me a good story. But I like telling them, too. Like the old man in Barnes and Noble who cornered me for two and a half hours and talked almost nonstop. Or the crazy man on the metro who told me about shadow boxing with God. I mean, I do have a knack for attracting craziness. It must be a gift.

So what do you get when you put the two together? Me...writing a good story. I have to stop putting it off and just do it already. Lately I think I've been thinking about it because I've seen a friend have some great success with her first novel. And because I've read a few books lately that I've thought were either meh or worse. And I think to myself, if this can get published, then certainly I can get published. Right? Right. Because mostly, I just want to tell stories.