I spent a large part of my childhood and teen years lying through my teeth.
Why in the world would I start my first blog post with that little confession? Well, I thought it would be appropriate for my inaugural post to tell you how I got started in this crazy world of writing. And it starts with a bunch of lies.
The stories have followed me my whole life. When my parents picked up the family and moved to Pennsylvania, I told our neighbors my father got drunk and burnt our old house down. Another of my favorite tall tales was the one about my brother desperately needing a heart transplant. I was six. Maybe I should’ve cut back on the General Hospital after school.
The need to add a little color to my life continued throughout school, once writing a genealogy report in the 4th grade claiming to have a Navajo Chief for a great-great grandfather. Have I mentioned I’m 50% Irish / 50% English? In high school I made up imaginary boyfriends to try and impress my friends, I’m not quite sure they ever believed me.
Eventually I got over the insecurity that was the basis for all those lies. But even today I still sometimes feel a little embellishment on the tip of my tongue. Usually it’s when I’m in the middle of a new situation where I feel the need to impress. Now when I feel that urge to fib, I make note of whatever white lie pops to mind. I write it down, or type into my phone. And I use it. Those little lies are inspiration for my next story. Or another layer for my character’s back story.
I wish I had known back then that my crazy imagination would add so much to my life as an adult. Maybe it would’ve given my poor parents a little comfort to know that their little liar was going to be okay. She just had to grow up, win several Oscars, marry a devastatingly hot male model, and prove the existence of big-foot first. 😉