The Name I Don’t Mind Being Called~ Storyteller

I’ve been affirmed by some close peeps lately. The ones that I have found that I am brave enough to say what if to and not worry about what they will think. I eat up their words of encouragement like my puppy Monroe waiting patiently for me to drop meat when I cook. I also know that if my what if sounded lame, they would tell me. It makes their words even sweeter.

Heart

When I was a little girl, if my Grandma Freda called me a storyteller, it was usually a bad thing. It usually meant I was telling a fib.

Today, I’m not ashamed to say my heart grows inside my chest every time I hear the words:

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For the Love of Fodder

My whole life I have had this strange habit.

I was often embarrassed by it.

I thought it was weird.

I have even thought at times I was a bit crazy for doing it.

It started off one summer when my friend Jayme and I got this wild hair to write a novel. Basically it became a knock off of North and South by John Jakes and these cheesy Swept Away teen novels we were obsessed with reading. We were two bored pre-teen girls with no formal creative outlet. We also more than likely didn’t understand the definition of plagiarism.

Junior high creatives. Oh my.

Long after our idea died in the spiral notebook under my bed, I continued the practice of developing potential character profiles. This came from interesting teachers, experiences, and one insane imagination colored vividly by junior high life.

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