Nine years ago I wrote my first blog post. Reading it now reminds me how it felt to be without a tribe. My tribe. The storytellers. It also brings back the rush of realizing my passion for writing fiction.
Here is an excerpt of the post I wrote as I began my journey as a writer.
All my life I have been the oddball. Not quite fitting. Different from the rest−the rest of the family, the rest of the class, the rest of the co-workers.
I was the one staring off into space−lost in thought.
It was not that I wasn’t focused. I was too focused. Not on what was happening around me, but what was going on in my mind....a whole other world.
I am not sure at what age I started recording some of my daydreams. I suppose the first stories found their way to paper when I was a child living in Sarnia, Ontario and later as a teen, in Cambridge. Even