Dipping my toes into the world wide web

I wrote my first fictional short story sitting at a table in my parents' basement when I was nine-year-old. It was about a girl and her younger sister going trick or treating. Even back then I knew I should be writing what I know about. So, it was about candy.

By the time I was in sixth grade, I was writing stories on my bus ride home from school almost every day. I loved it. It was my favorite thing to do. My sixth grade teacher fueled my imagination and desire to tell stories with her encouragement. Mrs. Wolf was a huge influence in my love of fiction.

In Junior High, my story writing hit new geeky heights. We had a creative writing unit in our English class. For every one writing assignment, I handed in two and told Mrs. Hanson to just pick the best one and grade it. I even asked if I could hand in my assignments with a pen name. What. A. Nerd. I think my pen name was Trisha. I was so facinated with the concept of writing and not putting your real identity on your work. I would read my stories out loud to the kids on the bus. Several would gather around as I read, using different voices for different characters and loving it when my narration would result in laughs. One day Mrs. Hanson read a part of one of my stories in front of the whole class. I think I lost two or three buttons from bursting with pride. In junior high you are so unsure of who you are and what is happening to your yo-yoing emotions. Everything is a big drama deal and it seems impossible to be confident in who you are. Writing for me at that time was a sure thing for me. I was good at it. And there wasn't a lot I was good at...my gangley arms attached to my chunky body had a hard time playing volleyball or basketball with any finesse. I was slipping down the ladder when it came to the "smart kids" in class...math proved to be impossible for me. I could occasionally squeak out a few notes on my saxaphone to resemble some sort of tune. But writing. Writing I was good at. It gave me hope. It gave me focus. It gave me dreams.

In high school I took on a different kind of writing...journalism. I covered the high school basketball games and was paid $15 for each article by the local weekly paper. I was rich, I tell ya. Rich! Some weeks I would make $45. For doing what I loved!

When I left home to attend college and see what the big, scary, unknown world was all about, I majored in print journalism. After two years, I was convinced I did not have what it takes to be a journalist. I was not brave enough, curious enough, passionate enough to go out and seek the facts and get the story. I wanted to make up the facts...I wanted to write fiction! I eventually transferred schools and ended up majoring in Creative Writing, where, for the first time ever, I pulled straight As.

Since college, I haven't done much writing. Life happened. Full time jobs, saddled with part time jobs, ministry opportunities, and growing circles of friends happened. But the writing bug has been nipping away at me for quite some time. A blog seems like a natural fit, where I can write in short bursts. About what...I still don't know.

Maybe this blog will be like me...it will have a little bit of everything on it. Photos, book reviews, movie reviews, lists of whatever, my thoughts on what God is telling me, ways I'm growing into who He needs me to be. And maybe, sometimes, I'll just write about candy.