A gene thing...
I thought that it would be the ultimate Science Fiction Fantasy come true to be able to reach through the telephone lines and touch the face of my mother.
In the space of this half year, I've learned such a great deal about myself. Isn't it interesting what a great deal we can learn just by listening to the stories that are going on inside us. I've discovered that I can't keep myself from writing. Perhaps it's something that I've passed onto my son. I know that he is so into words and into stories. I'm really proud of that. I'm proud that he's proud of the stories that he makes up, and I think that he should continue to do that. Sometimes, I wonder if writing is a sort of virus in the blood that we pass on from generation to generation.
Could it be that I inherited mine from the aunts who all wrote? Is it possible that they themselves inherited their writing bugs from our common ancestor who also wrote and was a bit mad? It's something I wonder about. If madness is a gene thing, could writing also be a gene thing?
I really don't know.
I just keep on writing.