How I Started

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who had problems falling asleep.

That girl was me.

I'm not sure if I suffered from too much caffeine consumption or childhood insomnia.  Whatever it was, it was only a phase in my childhood, because I certainly have no trouble now.  The point is, when I was younger, I would often lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling, because I could not go to sleep.  I thought perhaps I was doing it wrong, that there was some magical sequence you had to undertake in order to fall asleep.  But I was never tired and eventually it was causing a large amount of stress for my parents because my younger brother had a similar problem.  (Although, he needed to sleep with my parents nearly all the time.  I rarely slept with them, mainly because he stole away all of their attention).

Most nights, I would just wait for myself to pass out.  To do this, I would sometimes sneak back into the living room and watch television with my parents until I was too tired to keep my eyes open.  (This was how I was introduced to the movie The Mummy.  When my mom 'officially' introduced it to us, she was largely surprised that I could quote a good portion of it.  Well, mom, if you're reading this, now you know why).

When my parents knew I was having trouble sleeping, my dad would often sit up with me at night to read me stories until I was tired.  It would help if he stayed with me long enough.  Though, usually, he was running back and forth, trying to help me and my brother at the same time.  And because siblings hate each other, we couldn't be in the same room when our dad was trying to put us to sleep.

One night in particular, I noticed how exhausted and stressed my dad was as he continually peeked in my room to see if I was asleep.  I remember his disappointment when I wasn't, and went begrudgingly to do something about my brother, enlisting my mom's help in this.  It was then I realized I should no longer be dependent on my parents for sleep.  They had enough problems than to worry about me.  I would have to start helping myself for once.

So, I began telling myself stories.

I didn't read from a book, like my dad did. I began by taking bits of movies I had secretly watched with my parents and some of the stories he told me and combined them. I planned a basic plot or setting, did some mental outlining, and let the story play itself out in my head.  The mental exertion worked, rather well I might say, to make me tired enough for sleep.  I did this every night, even until I was creating my stories, my own characters instead of borrowed ones.

Around the time I was in eighth grade, I started reading Christopher Paolini's Eragon.  I quite enjoyed it and soon found out that he began writing it when he was fifteen.  Fourteen at the time, I had an epiphany.

I could write my own stories.

If Paolini was only fifteen when he started, why could I not start when I was fourteen?  It was brilliant and it made sense. I was excited.  I began writing and haven't really stopped since.

I still tell myself stories at night.  Borrowed ones, original ones, they all help my fall asleep to this very day.  I sometimes develop the ones I actually put to paper with this method.  And I think it has attributed to my many dreams of story ideas.

So I began writing to tell my own stories.  Some of these stories, from when I was younger, will never see the light of day.  Some will be adapted.  But the thrill of writing for me is making the movie reels in my head come to life, hoping they will be turned into pretty books with glossy covers.