During high school, I skirted the line of petty juvenile delinquent and outright criminal activity. Not once could anyone have called me a geek or a nerd. It was buried deep, but it was there. I wasn't hiding from it or shielding it so people would think I was cool. I've always fit in more than one narrow box. I smoked, swore and stole things. At the end of the day, I'd read. Recharging my batteries before a new day of mischief. Yeah, I was a handful.
I'd grown up with a love of books. I read tons and tons. I still remember a book read at age 11. The girl had silver eyes and super powers. I truly loved that book. After reading thousands of books, you wouldn't think that one from age 11 would stick with me, but it did. Probably because I wanted to be able to clean my room using my mind. I gave myself a headache trying to lift a book off the floor.
All the Nancy Drew books; I had them. They might be around still, too. My mother keeps almost everything.
My point is with all that reading, you'd think I'd have given writing a shot. Nope. It never crossed my mind. I hated book reports. I'd never considered that book reports and essays lived on the other side of the world from writing fiction.
I do love to entertain people and make them laugh. I've always loved empty notebooks and school supplies. It wasn't about starting a new year of school either. I just loved the notebooks, pens, stickies and books.
My notebook habit is out of control. I don't even use most of them for much more than scribbling. I write in my computer. A friend gave me a subscription to Scrivener, so I don't need to make notes or write outlines in the notebooks anymore.
I have about nine notebooks in and around my desk. Half-filled with little nothing notes and scribbles.
I didn't end up with any super powers even though I wished for them with all my heart, but I did end up with notebooks, and the need to fill them with stories.