Writing is not my hobby nor is it my job–it’s an integral part of my being. I write to remember and to mold and change those memories or fill in the parts I don’t recall anymore or change them for better or worse. I think most writers have a God complex where we can create a world we like, fear, imagine, desire or even despise. I like the power to change bad people into good, and even more, good people into the people I believe are hiding worlds inside that are not so good. I like that the best–everyone’s got a secret, a desire thought about but never acted upon and I get to make that happen. I write about disfunctional families and when asked why I do it so often I promise to stop when I come across a truly functional family. I’m safe.
Writing is a place where I can inject humor alongside the horrific, the mean-spirited, the bully without a heart of gold muchless a heart. When my children were young and we’d be in the car I’d point to a person or a group in a car or on the street and we’d play, “Tell Me”, and we’d take turns picking out people and making up stories on where they were going and why. We did this for years and I know it made me a more inventive writer and I believe the same is true of my children aznd their imaginations.
Writing may not be my total “raison d’être” but it is most certainly a vital component of my life and I feel lucky to call myself a writer.