Guest Post by K.M. Herkes
It all started with a box in the bedroom closet. When I was oh-so-very-young and my mother needed to attend to household mysteries without being interrupted, she pulled out the knick-knacks. "Promise to be careful," I was told, and the lid rose to reveal a secret collection of treasures: a green glass elephant; tiny lambs of silky white porcelain, siamese kittens, one, two three, and a frowning metal sheep with a broken leg, showing his hollow insides.
That revelation gave me hope that I could someday bring my own private stories into the open. It inspired me to believe that maybe, just maybe, baring the tender flesh of my imagination to the world might be worth the pain. Without the invention of the word processor, I could not be a writer at all. I do not draft. I craft. On paper, my thoughts are a jumble of asterisks, cross-outs and lines scribbled over every paragraph.
Alas, bard is no longer a viable vocation. Even if it was, a lot of my stories are to complex for anything less than an epic treatment, and no one has the attention span for spoken-word sagas these days. Not even me. So, I write by necessity and in a constant state of conflicted discomfort because the magic is too addictive to give up. It's a crude modern means to an ancient end, and in the end, it's one that I'm stuck using to get my fix.
When I’m not writing, I grow things, I camp and hike, and I pacify cats. I do a lot of research online and off. I also work in a library, which is a constant delight and a challenge. Vegetable gardening and butterfly chasing feature prominently in my current leisure pursuits.
Author Page: storysculpting.blogspot.com
Amazon page: www.amazon.com/author/kmherkes