A little girl, from a tiny town

When I was a little girl, I was the first one on the bus at 6:15 in the morning. Most kids, I think, hated living on the outskirts of a small town, and hated the long drive into school even more.

But I lived for it.

This hour was mine to shut out the noise of the other children, stare out the window, and dream up stories. When walkmans came out, I would listen to music to see if the rhythm changed the plot happening in my minds eye.

Sometimes, I would write my most exciting ideas down in a notebook. But most often, I would let an idea simmer for that full hour until I could sum it up in one single, perfect quote. During particularly snowy winter months, the view outside would inspire me to spend a week's worth of bus rides playing or replaying a new adventure in my mind.

During recess, while other kids were playing kickball or climbing the jungle gym, I was roaming the fence line. Our school had a massive fenced area that connected to the local library. Behind the library, were a few trees and bushes with a path in the middle. This is where I could tell my friend secrets. Where we would mash berries and flowers and pretend we made a salve to keep the werewolves away. Where we spoke of plans to not let eachother forget that magic existed in the world.

Some 20 years later, I probably couldn't tell you a quarter of the many stories I dreamt up as a little girl. I was the kid in my family mostly ignored because I was 'easy and self sufficient' compared to my loud brothers. I was also the little girl bullied at school for her name, or weight, or whatever the 'big kids' thought would be funny. This time to dream was precious to me. I imagined a fierce girl, unafraid to speak her mind. A girl with amazing, healing super powers. A girl so in-tune with nature that if only she tried, she could change the world.

I'm not that little girl on the bus anymore, but I do still love to dream. I like to imagine that magic exists, if mostly between the pages of a book.

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I've started my writing journey many times over, with at least 10 different novels started, but never completed. As I've gotten older and the realities of 'adulting' have set in, I've slowly locked that little girl away. I can't pin-point a time where I noticed the absence of her spark, but when I search for her creative light all I find is a dim glow.

I recently finished grad school (science) and started a small business. Although I never feel like I have the time, I'm hoping to make this the year I finally take a story to the finish line. I miss the girl I once was. I miss her passion, her unyielding sense that things are always okay, and her ability to slip into a plane of existence where magic is real.

I'm determined to find her again, to finish some stories I started when I felt passionate about them, and welcome you to come along on my journey as I do so.

I plan to keep posting on Vocal (probably a few introductory chapters), as well as short stories that don't belong anywhere else. It won't always be polished and perfect, but I'm always open to constructive feedback.

I hope you'll consider following me in this journey. I would love it if you subscribed, and told me why you fell in love with writing, too!