On the surface, I have about as ordinary a life as someone can have. That's why I write stories about imaginary people. I gotta spice things up somehow or I may just prove that you can die of boredom. I have an ordinary job and live in an ordinary house and drive a very ordinary car. I look ordinary and so do my husband and my kids. We're vanilla. Not even French vanilla. Just vanilla.
But wait. It's not all about appearances, is it? Because the more I thought about how uninteresting we are, the more evidence I found to disprove my hypothesis.
PROOF I DO HAVE AN INTERESTING LIFE:
- An eight-year-old son named Jack. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me I needed to publish a book of collected Jack stories, I'd have about a million dollars. That's still a million dollars less than if I had a dollar for every time someone urged me to read Fifty Shades of Grey, but... I digress. Back to my quirky son, my Jack Quotes of the Day on Facebook are major crowd pleasers. He has a very unique view of the world, and he's eager to share it with me, usually when we're alone together in the car on the way to school. Plus, any second grader who routinely attempts to sneak out of the house with no underwear under his clothes, says to his two-year-old brother, "Rub my feet, dumb baby," and knows the names of more domestic cat breeds than some veterinarians is a real piece of work and is going to keep his mom's life interesting, probably until he's forty, since he'll still be living at home.
- I make stuff up, and people actually want to read it. I find that very interesting. And sometimes puzzling. But I'm grateful for it. It used to be that if I had a weird dream about riding in invisible go-carts with Colin Firth, I'd wake up, shrug my shoulders, laugh about it with a couple of friends, and go on with my day. Now, that's fodder for future fiction. Everything is. From my slight (okay, more-than-slight) crush on the McDonald's drive-through guy who looked like Matt Cassel (where did that guy go, anyway??? Traded to a different franchise? I miss him...) to my unfortunate run-ins with other people's poo in public restrooms, it's all fair game. I just file it away for my next imaginary friend to experience.
- I'm a magnet for reality-challenged people. If someone is crazy, and we're in the same general vicinity, they will find me and talk to me. And I won't be able to escape.
- If embarrassing moments were somehow profitable, that would be my calling. Oh, wait... I guess I'm doing the best I can to try to make them profitable (see item #2).
- I have five siblings, and each of us has kids, and some of our kids have kids (none of mine do, yet... I just wanted to point out that I'm too young for that). Life cannot be dull in a family our size. There's always something going on, and it's never boring.
- When I watch shows like The Middle, I often find myself thinking, "Is that supposed to be odd? Is that why it's funny to most people?" because I often think it's funny because it's actually happened to me.
What makes your ordinary life a little bit extraordinary?
When you're as interesting as I am (cough, cough) and you have an over-active imagination, you feel an obligation to (over)share with the world. To save your family from ostracism, you give some of your craziest thoughts and experiences to fictional people, like I have in my books, Daydreamer, The Secret Keeper, and The Secret Keeper Confined, all of which you can purchase on Amazon. My third Secret Keeper book is in the works, but I don't have a release date yet, because I'm incredibly busy going through every McDonald's drive-through in Springfield to try to find my boyfriend. For smaller, more regular doses of my ramblings, please "like" my Facebook page. If you had one, I'd "like" yours.