In answer to Marcela K's open call on writing...

I tell stories as much as I write them. My kids would rather hear one of my true stories than read a book at bedtime. When I had only one child we would spend hours before bed just telling stories.

What to write about and how to go about it?
Life, of course! Is there any more real experience? Is there any better way to reach someone that with similar experiences, thought and emotions? And what's more, often with a sense of humor.

I will have a memory - from maybe a book, someone else's blog, a movie or from talking to a friend. Or something strikes me as funny in an unconventional way and my mind is off to the races. If I am not at home I have to be careful to not think about it much or else I will think the power or the humor or both right out of the story.

When I sit down at the computer to write, I prefer it to be as quiet as possible or at least no one needing me at that moment. Usually a humorous opening line or a powerful opening line comes to me and I write it. Then.......... I disappear.

A voice in my head is telling a story and my hands are taking dictation but *I* am not here. I am in a sort of a trance. There is so much going on in my head - the words of the story, music in the background and sometimes the foreground, other people talking (dialogue), sounds like rain, car travel, birds chirping, laughter, applause, crying, dogs barking, etc. - whatever's in the story is actually being played out like a movie in my mind as I write it.

Should someone enter my den, and speak to me or tap me, the sounds are suddenly silenced. It is then and only then that I become aware of the trace-like state of mind I have been in and am surprised to see that the clock tells me it has been hours since I began.

Why I write...
I have lost a billion little pieces of myself along my journey in life.  I lost who I was, forgot how to dance to life's tune, forgot how to play, forgot how to be me, forgot how to live. Though I have always been a 'sit right down and write yourself a letter,' kind of person, I began to hear the people (300+ emails from strangers) who were telling me I should be a writer. I had saved them all and finally decided I would try a blog to see if there was any interest in my stories.

As I began to tell the stories of my life, I started to live again. Disappearing into the words, I found myself, and so I write......