This is coming late because Blogger has decided to hate me – seriously, what did I ever do to you!? But, I shall persevere and this post will be put up!
So this week’s topic is about how and when I knew I wanted to be a writer. Easy because I don’t really remember a time when I didn’t want to write and tell stories.
I remember when I was younger and didn’t like the way a book, TV show or movie ended or developed, I’d make up my own ending or rewrite it how *I* thought it should go (OMG, I’ve been doing fanfic long before I even knew what it was *gasp*)
I’d lay in bed and tell my younger sister these revamped stories. Or make up stories involving us and our celebrity crushes at the time…absolutely mortifying when I think back on it.
In high school, I wrote and wrote and wrote. When I probably should have been paying attention in class. Whoops. I had notebooks filled with stories (truly horrendous stories, I might add, but all part of the journey, yeah?)