Is that Initial Desire a Continuation of Childhood Play?

Who knows where it really starts: that initial desire to be a writer. I've asked all of my friends when their ah-ah moment was. In interviews I've ask other writers. Sometimes I get a clever answer, but oftentimes I get the answer that I give. It was just something I started to do as a child so the adults would leave me alone.

Marcy lived next door to me when I was a very little boy, 4 years old maybe. I remember her as a great playmate. She was blonde. I only remember her being on the other side of the short fence. Years later, when visiting my grandmother, whose house was next door to Marcy's, we had a big gathering. We had a big gathering because I was there, and I was often not there. After everything settled down I said I was going next door to say hello to Marcy.

I remember the look on my grandmother's face, Marcy? Marcy who? It was a legitimate question. The little girl next door, I said. There is no little girl next door, she said. I was puzzled. Apparently there had never been a Marcy next door. It wasn't until I got older that I realized she was, in all likelihood, an imaginary friend.

We told stories through the fence.

I think my initial desire to write or to be a storyteller began when I befriended Marcy. From there it was just stories. I feel like all children are storytellers. I feel like all children are attracted to books. I see that with my five year old, I saw it with his classmates when he was in preschool. So perhaps that initial desire to write does nothing more than continue the act of play from childhood. It's an interesting theory, and it's a question of why there aren't more writers out there. Or have so many adults left all facets of childhood imagination behind?

Next time: Prospecting Perspectives