Words are my drug

It's funny how mere words are my everything.

When strung together "just so"...they're magic.

I never particularly wanted to be Batman or Wonder Woman or Spiderman.  Super powers held little appeal to me in my own little life. 
But give me words, and I'm armed to the teeth.

I can elicit emotion with my words.  I can make you laugh or cry or scream.  I can take you to another planet, a place in time that didn't previously exist, or the Greatest Show on Earth...in my mind.
Heady stuff.  No pun intended.

I can make you feel.
Makes you squirm a bit, doesn't it?  My words rattling around in your head making you think and feel things you hadn't before.

I'm self-medicating, if that helps matters at all.

I wrap myself in the words on a shitty day and go someplace else.  I create people and places that bridge us between here and there.  I'm a word architect, if you will.  I'm a traveler through times and minds and characters that touch your soul.  I leave my literary breadcrumbs about to lead you out of your own mind and into mine. 

Don't venture from the road.
You're not the only thing rattling around in there.

Always writing* 

In the beginning

I enjoy blogging most days.  I suppose that's quite a plus in this endeavor I'm undertaking.

I write books.
That sounds so simple, doesn't it?
I write books.

But anyone that writes books knows it's anything but.

Creativity is not a one-size-fits-all anything.  There are aptitudes and talents that are specialized. Others are broad-based and can encompass a great deal.
For example, I'm creative with words.  That's were my strength lies.  I cannot, however, draw a straight line.  I'm hopeless at picking out curtains/home foofery and the like.  I have friends who can take a piece of wood and create a damn masterpiece.  I end up with splinters.

Play to your strengths.

I've always known I've wanted to tell stories in written form.  Words are my drug.  I ache for them.  I used to open a dictionary to any page and start reading.  It utterly fascinates me.  I become lost in the letters in a way that other creative mediums don't touch.

About me.

I'm forty-four.  Obviously not one of those women who is twenty-and-holding.  I let go of the twenties long ago.  It's served me well.  Mother of three.  Grandmother of one precious grandson.
(This is why you don't harm your teenagers.  Eventually they grow up and produce grandchildren. Believe me, it's worth it.  I had my doubts at the time...)

I've been writing seriously for around eleven years.  First book published in 2005 with Whiskey Creek Press.  It was an ePub.  They were sold to Start Publishing.  Start Publishing was sold to/joined forces with/shit, I don't know Simon & Schuster Digital Services.
I'll be popping up links on the side when I have a chance.

You can Google me, if you like.  I've had a presence online for quite some time.  I have another blog, Chrys's World.  I'll hyperlink that when I have time.

Why should you read my blog?

I think it's a valid question.

If you're a writer, we're related.  Writers "get" each other like no one else can.  We're a different breed.  An odd, twisted, and occasionally manic breed.
I plan on sharing my journey from the beginning up to the present with the hope that you'll find something you can use.
All our journeys are different, but they cross in several places.
And that's where I hope we'll find each other.

Always writing*