So yesterday I talked about my current level of weirdness, citing specific examples and whatnot because I'm super thorough like that....
Weirdest. Kid. Ever.
So yesterday I talked about my current level of weirdness, citing specific examples and whatnot because I'm super thorough like that. But then I saw the above graphic, burst out laughing (causing great concern to my children in the process), and got thinking about my past weirdness.
'Cause seriously, I was one odd little kid.
See, other kids who were scared they were being stalked in the middle of the night would, yes, hide under their blanket. Or make their parents excavate the depths of their closet to make sure that freaky shadow they saw wasn't a monster waiting to pounce.
Me? Not so much. In fact, I was pretty certain SOMEONE was watching me. See, there was this ledge outside my bedroom window that was crazy easy to climb up onto. It didn't really occur to me that it might be, you know, EMPTY, because it made so much more sense that some mythical creature was peering in my bedroom window at night.
And instead of being scared, I got excited. I also, got vain. Yep. I'd preen in front of my bedroom mirror, wanting to look nice for the voyeuristic creatures I'd decided were peering in my window. I half expected (and hoped) that they'd be impressed enough to kidnap me and whisk me off to a magical world somewhere. -----> One of the dangers of reading too much, right there.
And at the ripe old age of thirty-four, there's a small part of me that's a little bit disappointed that never happened. Which may be why I pour so much into my writing, because I have SO much to pour in. I can take that little girl that I once was, pat her comfortingly on the shoulder and say, "The strange little blue creatures you thought lived under the earth's crust in a magical, crystal-studded world? They're still there. That story is STILL there, and you will always be a character in it. And I'll craft other stories for you to be a part of. And you will be immortal in this way, with a role in every story I ever write."
I wish I could go back and tell her that, promise her that.
VanderVision Tip of the Day: We're human, and we can only look in one direction at once. So sometimes, awesomeness has to be retroactive.
About author: Kimberly VanderHorst
Kimberly Vanderhorst wrote her first book when she was seven (it was totally awesome, but the world isn't ready for it yet), and her next when she was twenty-seven. When asked to account for the intervening decades, she likes to suggest the possibility of alien abduction with as straight a face as possible.