I've always had a strong imagination. As a kid, I was constantly making up stories in my head. Nothing was ever simply mundane to me. I remember in second grade, my best friend Iris and I would always go on adventures in the parking lot where we spent recess. We had our own invisible world there. Over by the pine trees was Secret Cabin. We would often make piles there of the pods that fell from the tulip trees; these were our harvests of corn. In Secret Cabin, we would be safe from the evil spiders of Poison River, this big streak of tar covering a cracked part of the school's parking lot. Every day was a magical adventure.
I still prefer to live inside my head. There I keep worlds upon worlds of fascinating places. It's one of the reasons I decided to become a writer, since I love creating settings and characters. While I commute to work, while I do basic tasks like stocking, my mind is always far away creating some adventure for my characters. The problem is finding the time to take these imaginings and writing them out in an organized manner. A stream of consciousness like this is simple. A structured novel is much more complex.
I'm trying. I'm trying so hard.
And in the meantime, I stay inside my head and keep dreaming of the day I finally pull my life together.
That's enough introspection for now.
XOXO
Gossip Ghoul.
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