It might surprise you to know that writing isn’t something I chose to do. Rather, I believe it’s a part of who God made me.
I have known for many, many years now that I am odd. No really. There is something very different about how my brain works and I have a very vivid recollection of the exact moment when I realized that I was not normal.
I am sitting in the backseat of our family car. It’s dark out and we are at an intersection near my elementary school. I don’t remember where we are going or exactly how old I am, but I remember a moment when it occurred to me to ask my parents a question I’d never thought of before:
“When you hear other people talk, do you add on things like ‘he said thoughtfully’ or ‘she shouted’ in your mind?” (Sidenote: Yes, I know these are terrible dialogue tags. Give me a break, my age was still in the single digits here.)
To their credit, my parents do not look at me as if I’ve lost my mind, but they certainly appear surprised as they answer that they do not think that way. Then I ask:
“Do you rewrite what you say or what other people say in your head over and over until it sounds right?”
And that was it. That was the moment I knew my brain worked very differently from everyone else’s.