I love the pencil scrawls and bleeding ink across paper, I love the waiting blinking cursor on a computer screen, I love the enticing fantasies and enduring realities, I love words … The dancing letters of imagination crafted into stories of adventure, suspense, drama and romance.
I was the child that had to be banished outside with directives to “play” or “get fresh air”. This would mean amassing more toe stumps and bruises from walking around with my nose deeply buried in a book. Though to me, a bruised toe was certainly worth the opportunity to learn all about the escapades of Anansi, Br’er Rabbit and Nancy Drew.
In fact, my earliest memory is about learning to read and I vividly remember the rush of excitement and the glare of light bulbs when comprehension dawned on me. I was about five years old and I had learned all the basics; my ABCs, My numbers, simple words and even sentences. Then I got my first little reading book in primary school and I understood all of it; oh I was over the moon. The entire story of Pam and Roy was now accessible to me. (Jamaican children of my generation know what I’m talking about)
Is it any wonder that my love of words led me to write stories of my own? It is said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and that is how my journey began. I wanted to write stories that were similar to the ones that I enjoyed so much. Though there were occasions that I disagreed with authors and found myself rewriting entire stories – starting in my head of course – until I ultimately transferred them to paper. Still, it was only when I was just about to enter high school that I manifested enough originality of thought to begin writing my first complete short stories and poems. Since then I have gone far and wide in my sometimes tumultuous relationship with words; yet invariably, memories of my favorite stories keep me hopefully creating what others too will enjoy.