Glad you could make it. Actually, I'm glad I could make it. I've been meaning to start blogging for two years now. About time, huh?
I haven't always considered myself a writer.
In fact, it wasn't until two and a half years ago that I wrote the beginning of my first story on a dare. Yep. You heard right. My sister dared me to write a story.
It all started when I read a popular book series and absolutely hated the ending of the final book. I've never been outraged by a book's ending before, but I complained to my sister (and anyone else who would listen) for a week straight. Tired of my ranting, she dared me to write a better story.
Okay, so being the youngest of five girls, I've never turned down a dare in my life. Not even when one of my sisters dared me to pick Dad's tomatoes and bury them in the dirt under the house. Which, by the way, he grounded me for when I was twenty-eight years old. What? You think I'd rat myself out before then?
Anyway, I sat in front of the computer and immediately wrote two pages off the top of my head. My sister was surprised. My mother was impressed. And I was delighted. I had written the beginning to my first novel and hadn't even known it.
That was the day I began my writing career.