The Reason I am a Storyteller


Maybe it is the imagination. Or perhaps it is the breadth of experiences as a human being. But whatever it is, I became a storyteller. I am not with the program tonight, as my main influence as a writer has left the planet and passed on to where we ultimately move on to. My mother, a silly, often paranoid, very emotional and empathic lady, left the earthly plane this morning at 1 a.m. I am numb, more than devastated, and perhaps a bit too far into the merlot at the moment, but I wanted to pay her the respects due for what I consider my craft. Living with her gave me so much material, and I am thankful that she and my late father did not reign me in with constraints, groundings, restriction, and all that silly shit that parents do to teach their kids to behave. Freedom gave me the ultimate opportunity to explore the things that gave me the young adult stories I write about. Thank you, mama. I love you and I will miss you so, so very much.

Julie

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s