My lifelong love affair with books and reading started very early on. My mother had been a reader, but as I was growing up, she seldom had time for such pleasures. Being a practical woman (I admired her for that) she wanted her pastimes to contribute to her family in some way, and sewing and cooking became her creative modes of expression. My maternal Grandmother, a book lover herself, narrated tales while I lay in bed in the evenings and I was entranced by her stories.
Isn’t it ironic how talents run in the genes? The three of us love books, love fashion, and love being in the kitchen. I was once asked what we share in common and offhandedly remarked we are brunettes with fair skin who look good in the color red. Anyway, I’m digressing. … Once I could learn to read for myself, I devoured everything I could lay my hands on – including the family’s encyclopedias. The volume that recounted Egyptian history, and the Greek, and Roman myths and legends were my favorites. I dressed up and acted out these tales, and that’s where I got bitten by both the storytelling and acting bug.
I’d better draw a veil over my first attempts at writing, which usually involved grandiose figures, magic, and mythical beings. And, life being what it is, school and then work came in front of writing until I joined the literati and claimed my right to be a writer determined to make a living from it.
Fast forward to 1997, when I returned to California and because the thought of living abroad was fresh in my mind, (it still is) and I’m a history nut – I was compelled to write about being in so many different cities steeped in history.
Unlike most, I was never inclined to join a writer’s group. How could I trust their intellect or sensibilities if I didn’t know them, so I went it like I do most things, following my independent spirit.
By 2000, I had two newspaper columns going but wanted to do more with my creativity and so I began to paint again, as I had in my years In Europe. It’s always a surprise to encounter previous work.
Have you ever stumbled upon something that forms your history and you see your evolution? It’s like your older self encountering your younger self. I have no interest in going back but see growth as a joy, what’s your take on it? Do tell.
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