Telling Stories to Cope...

I can't believe it's Friday already! I don't know where the week went…

You've seen my first inspiration—Duke. I had so much fun talking about him! This blog isn't as much fun to talk about, but it's probably a key reason I started telling stories to myself.

On the very last day of third grade, I was walking home from school. I remember it was hot, and I was thinking that I got to spend the whole summer swimming in our backyard pool. Unfortunately, while I was walking home, feeling happy and carefree, a little boy down the street from me, a boy whose house I walked by that day, found a gun up in his parent's closet. He had his best friend over and they decided to play cops and robbers.

He killed his best friend. It was a horrific, tragic accident that to this day still gives me chills. The little boy—and remember he was just a child—told the police that his friend was killed by someone driving by and shooting a gun through the front window where they were playing in his parents bedroom. That was the story that quickly spread around the neighborhood.

Our house was a similar design and my parents slept in the bedroom with the window facing the front of the house. I was terrified someone was going to drive by, shoot and kill my parents. Even after I learned the truth, this terror stuck with me. I couldn't sleep in my own bed, and I spent much of the summer sleeping on the floor in my parents' bedroom.

My parents didn't care what the "experts" said. They let me sleep there, and over a month or so gently coaxed me back into my room. In the day, they patiently answered my endless questions and worries and helped me process what had happened.

To deal with my fear at night, I started telling myself stories as soon as I went to bed. I created worlds that I could control. Where curious little boys don't accidentally kill their best friends then have to live with the tragedy for the rest of their lives. Where two families aren't torn apart by the grief, anger and sheer helplessness. Where I could change the outcome if I didn't like it.

Telling stories to myself became an integral part of my personality.

Eventually, I wanted to write stories that took people away from real life for a little while. I don't have the power to change reality, but I hope I can write a good book that makes people smile.

So how about you all? What got you interested in reading books? Or writing books?