This, I think, is who I was supposed to be. Well, not actually Joyce Carol Oates, but someone like her. Someone with drive, determination and the ability to tell a great story. My feverish brain is always working to contrive plots, dramas and brilliant stories of lust, revenge and true love.
When I read on Wikipedia that Oates once had a copy of "Alice in Wonderland" as a girl, and treasured it because there were so few books in her home, I could not believe the similiarity with my own past. We didn't have many books, but I did have a copy of this one, which I lost one summer in a Scotch broom "fort" we built. I left the book there one afternoon, and when I went back to find it that evening I couldn't! I was always convinced the White Rabbit had picked it up while passing through the bushes on his way to the tea party. And ... if this isn't enough ... Oates and I both worked on our high school newspapers! (Separated at birth?)
At age 15 I determined never to marry. I would leave my small Oregon town and move to the Left Bank of Paris where I would work on my novel. I never thought about how I would live or how I would eat. I pictured myself in a garret, starving; so I guess I thought those garrets were given away gratis to those crazy Americans who thought they needed one.
I can see it now: an entire section of the City of Lights devoted to starving artists. I suppose, now, they are just scattered around and work at McDonald's during the day and none of them starve. Cholesterol counts are probably sky-high.
However, my determinations lay elsewhere - along with my drive and abilities.
I wish I could tell you that the 10 story ideas I have worked on has at least turned into one book, but alas, I cannot tell a lie. I have never finished a one of them.
My Script Frenzy is waiting for me to add a single word to the count. What can the problem be? Blogging? Oh, surely not! But then again, maybe it wouldn't hurt to stop for a day or two.
Enjoy your own time blogging, everyone out there in Silent Land.