Here's what DL Hammons writes about the blogfest: On Monday, February 13th, you should post your own origin story. Tell us all where your writing dreams began. It could be anything from how you started making up stories as a child, or writing for the school newspaper, or even what prompted you to start a blog. How about stories about the first time somebody took an interest in your writing, or the teacher/mentor that helped nudge you along and mold your passion, or maybe the singular moment when you first started calling yourself a writer. It all started somewhere and we want you to tell us your own, unique, beginnings.
CHRISTINE RAINS - THE BEGINNING
I grew up in a small Canadian town with a troubled history. The only claims to fame we had were the great flour mill fire of '64 and the villains who clawed their way up to bigger crimes in the province's capital city. And by clawed, I mean they used their claws. Werebadgers like to live out in the country hills.
I lived on the poor side of town right beside a cemetery. The cemetery was our playground. I loved that place. It fueled my imagination for all sorts of scary stories. Sometimes the stories I wrote came true.
Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little. All my stories weren't scary.
I wrote a poem about the moon when I was five years old. It informed the reader there were holes on the moon, but no trees or cars. It won a prize at the local fall fair. My infamous short story series about The Kingham Kids was my real beginning as a writer. I was seven and the first stories were only a few pages long in my childish handwriting. The first one was about a tornado. My brother, our two neighbors, and I managed to out-ride it on our bicycles. My stories began to grow in length, and I added in more of the kids in the neighborhood. We were a gang. A gang that went on adventures, saved babies and puppies, and banished the bad guys. All the kids would wait impatiently as I wrote the stories and then sit eagerly while I read it to them.
I always loved reading and writing. Yet it was through The Kingham Kids that I really fell in love with being a writer. It was an indescribable joy to write the stories and have my audience captivated by them. I knew from a very young age that I wanted to write books. No, I didn't just want to do it, I needed to do it.
My mutant power erupted when I hit puberty and I lost all confidence in myself. I could only turn my limbs invisible. It wasn't enough to impress Bad Horse. The werebadgers sucked out my power in one universe, and, in another, it was the secret government ray guys zapping mutant genes when they cross land borders. Or it could have been when I was battling zombie Trudeau. (Comic books. Yeah, so many different universes and reboots. Can't keep them straight.)
I still feel that joy when I write. Some stories take more work than others, but it goes with being a writer. I still feel the need to write, and though I have always been writing, it's only in these past few years that I've gained the confidence and knowledge of how to make my dream of being a published author come true.
Hm. Perhaps something good did come out of that little town.
I want a cape and cowl now.
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