Once Upon a Time…………………

there was a little girl who loved storytelling – the kind in books that her Mama read to her, complete with voices. The kind her granddaddy told her while rocking in his chair on his wide front porch. The kind folks told which often started with “let me tell you this…..”. The kind she told herself – sometimes they were true and sometimes she made them up………

My family was full of storytellers. My Uncle Howard could spin a yarn that wound around nearly a whole afternoon but was so rich with description and full of voices and sound affects that you never noticed the time. On evenings after supper my daddy would tell us stories about his childhood: his dog named Joe, his favorite mule who was deaf, getting into trouble with his cousins or at school – all painted so clearly in my mind it was like looking at a picture book. And cherished times with my mama would begin with my imploring, “tell me about when you were a little girl….”

It’s no wonder that I have always loved to write. Starting early in grade school I made up all kinds of stories. One about a village terrorized by a
giant who ended up befriending the villagers and being their guardian – all based on my observations of an ant hill that I visited on the way to my gramma’s garden or to the outhouse. My teacher was intrigued and her response spurred me on to write a story about an ice cream family – the daddy was a chocolate cone, the mama was vanilla, and the daughter was
strawberry. By middle school I was writing a weekly serial about a girl named Charlie, which my classmates read eagerly and clamored for more as soon as the story made it around the room. In high school I joined the Journalism Club and eventually became the editor. I also worked part-time at the local paper and dreamed of going to college and majoring in Journalism. Human interest stories were my choice but maybe someday there would be a novel……

As it turns out, John Lennon was so right: “life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans”. And so it was with me. I became a lot of other things – a heartbroken young girl, a bumbling secretary, a wife, a divorcee, a miserable secretary, a wife again, a mother, a substitute teacher, a nurse, a massage therapist, a parent advocate……..and through all of that I wrote – bits of verse at times, snatches of thought and longing, but always stories – bits and pieces and sometimes whole stories with a beginning, middle and an end.

So here I am. Now. In this place. Still writing stories. And Lord help me! A blog!!! Retired, renewed and ready for this journey and wherever it takes me. I hope you will sit a spell. Take your shoes off. Curl up. Maybe have a cup of tea. Let’s see where this goes……..

WRITING:

This blog

“All the fascinating stories she told us as children and adults.” – Alex Griffin, author’s son

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Linda is always available for side collaborations and talks most anywhere. If you want to chat about her writing, books, tea, wine, or anything else, don’t hesitate in reaching out.

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ART:

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