I’ve always made up stories. I had my school convinced I had a little sister and four pet bunnies when I was little, and told all these tales about life in Egypt that weren’t the least bit true. After my Dad came along and ruined my stories for me during a parent/teacher meeting, my teacher laughed and said I’d make a great writer someday.
Let’s hope she’s right about that. 😀
I used to play out scenes with my Barbie dolls too (hush, we all had them, don’t deny it) until, at the age of ten, I put down The Prisoner of Azkaban and decided, ‘I can do that.’ Or something along those lines, anyway. Thus began my first fanfic, rife with Mary Sues and purple prose and cheesy lines and all that wonderful stuff we have to get out of our systems. It was also the only novel-length project I actually finished. Ever.
I’ve been writing ever since. I’m eighteen now (or almost eighteen. Can’t wait till October) and trying very hard to focus on just one or two projects and actually finish them. Let’s see how that goes.