Writing stories for my daughters
It seems it was another lifetime, but my husband and I met in another city at university. Of the things I studied during that short time before we decided that our new family was more important, creative writing and archaeology were my best subjects. Feeding all my old drafts, manuscripts and notes (including a novella and a poetry collection) through the shredder a few years back while decluttering old tax papers was the most freeing and cathartic act. What I was writing wasn't bad but those papers had served their purpose back then in my pointless, lonely university days and have no place in my happy, full adult life of family and meaningful work so I joyfully shredded them. And you know what happened next? After thirteen years of writing nothing beyond thank you notes and grocery lists, the words began to flow again. I started with a story about my daughter finding a fairy blown in her window from a storm, then another about my other daughter trying to name her pe...