From Child's Play
What did you play as a child?
I can think of a couple things. I often played some form of a "vagabond." Sometimes running from the fiery arrows with my friend Bethany in an elementary-school-aged version of Pilgrim's Progress. Other times, I would be packing and unpacking the belongings of the "Sunshine Family" as they moved from one indoor structure to the next. Kim and I were always hastily tucking our dolls into wagons as we dashed and hid from something lurking in the woods and in our imaginations. Vagabonding, to wander from place to place without any settled home, has been a part of my thought process since way back.
Being an author was a regular activity, too. Boxes filled with "essays" and little books made from construction paper stapled together attest to that pastime. I even had a pen name! "Karen Carlson"--delightfully understated. I read stories written by women who often had main characters who were also writers (The "Papa" Series by Thyra Ferre Bjorn). I learned of interesting women who not only lived lived fascinating lives, but they wrote about them too, such as Corrie ten Boom. My Grandma Betty wrote short stories and my mom and I enjoyed playing with words ("ring-rang-rung, sing, sang, sung, bring-brang-brung"--we would laugh at our outrageous use of poor grammar!). It only seemed natural that I too should plat at and dream of being a writer.
They say there is a connection between what you played as a child and who you are today. I guess I can see a connection. While I may not be a full fledged vagabond, I certainly have wandered and struggle to feel settled--even when I have lived in the same location for eight years!
For the last several years one of my laments in regard to living in the woods has been the lack of opportunities such as classes that would give me opportunity to write, writer workshops, or even rather informal writing groups. My BSF/BGEA friend Karen and I have talked many a time about starting blogs, but I had one excuse or another.
Yet a reason to blog came into being last month! When I shared with a group of friends that I would be going to a national conference, they exploded with enthusiastic moans exclaiming their deep sorrow that they were unable to join me (husbands, families, dogs, homes, etc). A blog is a great way to take them along--and also provides me with the excuse to start this little project. So thank you North Country Patriots!
I can think of a couple things. I often played some form of a "vagabond." Sometimes running from the fiery arrows with my friend Bethany in an elementary-school-aged version of Pilgrim's Progress. Other times, I would be packing and unpacking the belongings of the "Sunshine Family" as they moved from one indoor structure to the next. Kim and I were always hastily tucking our dolls into wagons as we dashed and hid from something lurking in the woods and in our imaginations. Vagabonding, to wander from place to place without any settled home, has been a part of my thought process since way back.
Being an author was a regular activity, too. Boxes filled with "essays" and little books made from construction paper stapled together attest to that pastime. I even had a pen name! "Karen Carlson"--delightfully understated. I read stories written by women who often had main characters who were also writers (The "Papa" Series by Thyra Ferre Bjorn). I learned of interesting women who not only lived lived fascinating lives, but they wrote about them too, such as Corrie ten Boom. My Grandma Betty wrote short stories and my mom and I enjoyed playing with words ("ring-rang-rung, sing, sang, sung, bring-brang-brung"--we would laugh at our outrageous use of poor grammar!). It only seemed natural that I too should plat at and dream of being a writer.
They say there is a connection between what you played as a child and who you are today. I guess I can see a connection. While I may not be a full fledged vagabond, I certainly have wandered and struggle to feel settled--even when I have lived in the same location for eight years!
For the last several years one of my laments in regard to living in the woods has been the lack of opportunities such as classes that would give me opportunity to write, writer workshops, or even rather informal writing groups. My BSF/BGEA friend Karen and I have talked many a time about starting blogs, but I had one excuse or another.
Yet a reason to blog came into being last month! When I shared with a group of friends that I would be going to a national conference, they exploded with enthusiastic moans exclaiming their deep sorrow that they were unable to join me (husbands, families, dogs, homes, etc). A blog is a great way to take them along--and also provides me with the excuse to start this little project. So thank you North Country Patriots!
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