An enchanted bunny rabbit? How stupid is that! I said to myself after reading the back of my sister’s Netflix movie, in which a little girl and an enchanted stuffed bunny rabbit were going to save the world (well, not exactly, but that’s what it sounded like). What other ridiculous objects could I give magical powers to? I wondered. A magical steak knife? A magical napkin? A magical pen? Okay, you could do a lot with a magical pen. But what about a magical …? I mentally went through my apartment and listed the things that it would be rather silly to give magical powers to. Finally, I remembered the sewing machine I had gotten for Christmas. A magical sewing machine? How stupid would that be! But wait …
Before I knew it I had a beginning and an end of a story. I had a small group of protagonists and a way to get them somewhere (using period clothing sewn by an enchanted sewing machine) to do some great deed and a way to get them back home, but I had no middle, no actual adventure. Bummer.
I had never thought seriously about writing a book before (I think everyone occasionally dreams about writing a book), but now I wanted to actually write one.
My elaborate daydreams still haven’t furnished a middle for that story, but they did spark an idea for another story, which, under the influence of an encouraging, picture-book loving, writer-wannabe friend, I turned into a short story. I’ve never been the same since.
Writing is one my family’s “curses”, but I assumed I had avoided it, since I disliked writing until high school and never thought seriously about writing a book until after college. I thought every writer was born with a pen in his or her hand, like Jo in Little Women. Writing is something she always wanted to do. Not so with me.
Nonetheless, and very much to my surprise, I discovered that I love to write. More than that, to me it’s something worth every bit of effort it will take to reach the goal of becoming an author (and that will be a lot of hard work).
A not so random favorite quote: “I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.” Eric Liddell, Chariots of Fire.
Curiosity question to other writers (or to anyone with a dream): Is writing a dream you’ve been chasing or a dream that’s been chasing you?