Finding my way from Point A to Point B has never been the straight line I imagined.
I wrote my first story at age four in purple crayon on our blue living room wall. Beginning in corner A, I quickly realized a horizontal stripe was uninteresting.
With swirls and dots, the plot improved.
I improvised until I reached the archway, my B. I was thrilled to high heaven with my tale; critics were not.
That blank wall, however, showed me the writing adventure, and I loved it. Sudden twists with dips and doodles expanded the story beyond my original plan. To this day, I save my notes, knowing the best direction for the plot may be scribbled in something I hadn’t intended, something I hadn’t noticed.
In Margin Notes, my blog, I write about life’s small, unexpected moments, those easily overlooked details in our daily margins as we rush toward the horizon.
My children’s picture book, Sweet Moon Baby: An Adoption Tale, shows the miraculous adventure of separate lives navigating beneath a wise moon. At long last, they reach a point they never could have imagined.
Writing about characters who feel detoured, dead-ended, or derailed is my challenge. I understand feeling stalled. At least temporarily.
Point B is always ahead.
Just a little farther than I thought.