This is not really the beginning. Chronological order doesn’t add meaning to anything here. What means something here is truth. The real beginning was when I was three years old and dictating a story about a family of mice to my mother, who diligently wrote my little girl words into a little girl book of folded construction paper. Later that day, I illustrated it. That was the moment; I remember it with crystalline detail. I can still see those pages in my minds eye, and that is the day that started my life as a writer. Happy? Write about it. Sad? Write about it. Bored? Angry? Depressed? In love? You guessed it… Write about it. That’s what means something.
Call me KC. Of course, that’s a nomme de plume and you’ll learn waaaaaay more about me than my name as we go, but for now, KC will have to do. There are a few guidelines for reading what is published on this blog. It’s probably best that we have an understanding from the get go, so here goes:
- All life falls within the artist’s scope. Having said that, I’m not going to embarrass anyone or use this as a vent. This is not a place for hurling insults in any direction. Conversation is good. Picking fights is bad. Play nice in the sandbox.
- Many of the topics here will envoke powerful emotions. Remember that the past is the past. If I made a decision that you would have made differently and you choose to take it as a personal affront, all I can say is: don’t. If this is not clear, see item 1.
- I will warn you if a post contains graphic content. Some of them will. I’ve lived through some pretty crazy stuff, but like I said, truth is what means something. I won’t lie to you. Just understand now that my life (and everyone else’s that I’ve ever encountered) is filled with such a wondrous variety of humor and tears; chaos and peace; light and darkness. We’re human. It comes with the territory.
I have so much to tell you, and there are so many more interesting places to start than from the beginning…