It happened when I was walking out of work the other day, a gentle breeze blowing, my heels clicking against the parking deck. I thought, I’m so glad my childhood self can’t see me now.
No, it’s not what you think. It’s not because I was ashamed or frustrated with myself. (more…)
I started writing fiction when I was a kid. To be honest, I couldn’t really give you an age, but my best guess is 7. No lie.
I was going to tell you about one of my first stories but why do that when I can let you read it? Well, mostly because it’s embarrassing but what the heck. I wrote this one when I was about 9. See if you can recognize the subtle influence of the fables I read as a child; my adult self comments are in teal:
Once upon a time, there lived in the forest a small elf. He had escaped from Santa’s workshop. (Because apparently Santa enslaved the elves.) He got into a lot of mischief. His name was Otto. (more…)