Evolution of a Writer

Or how the heck did I get here?

For as long as I can remember—and that’s longer than I want to admit most days—I made up stories. As a little girl, the characters in those stories were my friends. When my real life friends and I played, I was always the one making up the scenarios, especially when we were playing out scenes based on our favorite TV shows. My imagination took me to places I knew I’d never get to go because they existed in fantasy worlds or in the far future or somewhere in outer space. But man I enjoyed those flights of fancy.

The first time I remember writing a story and showing it to someone was in 7th grade. I’d started writing fan fiction, not that I knew that’s what I was doing. When I finished the story, I somehow screwed up the courage to show it to my 7th Grade English teacher. I honestly didn’t expect her to read it. I certainly didn’t expect to get it back with suggestions and encouragements. I most definitely didn’t expect her to write a note in my year book at the end of the Spring semester telling me to keep following my dream to be a writer.

Over the years, I continued writing fan fiction. I wrote a story with the serial numbers very badly sanded off based on Star Wars while in Eastern Europe. That one “novel” turned into three. It was followed by a series of “novels” that were influenced by Battlestar Galactica.

There was a fantasy novel very loosely based on Lord of the Rings and several others that were influenced by The Dragonriders of Pern.

It’s strange, but the first time I tried writing something that was all mine, it turned out to be a police procedural. I actually came across a copy of it the other day when I was going through some old file boxes looking for something. I was equally horrified and impressed. Horrified because I can see everything wrong with it, starting with the fact it is almost all dialogue. Impressed because it wasn’t a poor imitation of something I’d read or seen and there was a viable story arc there.

Going forward, I wrote a lot of mysteries and family saga sort of stories. Some of them better than others. Some actually made it to critique groups, but that’s another story. It wasn’t until I started seriously thinking about writing for profit that I took a hard look at what I wanted to write. That’s how I went from a romantic suspense (Wedding Bell Blues) to urban fantasy, fantasy, and science fiction. But none of those is “pure”. The urban fantasies have elements of police procedurals or mystery in them. The fantasy series (Sword of the Gods) is probably the closest to a “pure” genre entry, but it’s not. Not if you look close enough. The same with the Honor & Duty sf/mil-sf series.

So imagine my surprise the other night when I woke up around three with the beginnings of a straight mystery trying to take hold in my brain. It’s not as if I don’t already have more than enough different series or standalone novels going right now. Not that Myrtle the Evil Muse cares. When I complained, she simply smiled and told me she was taking me back to my roots.

My response?

Nope. Not gonna happen.

She laughed some more.

Anyone want to bet who wins?

(If history is any indication, it won’t be me. Sigh.)

And, yes, this post is thanks to Myrtle being evil, my being sleep deprived, and me trying to avoid going back to do one more chapter of edits. It is also me avoiding doing another political post.

Anyway, I guess this has all been a long-winded way of saying you never know where your writing will take you. Allow yourself ot enjoy the flights of fancy. Most of all, trust yourself to write, to learn, to fall down and get back up, and to soar.

The above image was created using Gemini.