When I was five I had an imaginary friend, Bethie. I don’t remember much about Bethie, only that she had a younger sister, looked similar to me, and moved to Hawaii. I didn’t talk with Bethie, I mostly talked about her. Looking back, she was the first character I invented. To me she was real, like all the characters I have imagined over the years. I knew Bethie’s personality, her likes, her dislikes, and knew how she’d react to certain situations. For example, I knew that when Bethie moved to Hawaii she’d be gone forever. Bethie was not the type to keep in touch.
When I began putting pen to paper and allowing the characters who have lived in my mind to live on the pages of my manuscripts I have enjoyed allowing my family and friends to know my inventions. Finally, I could talk about Lily, Nikki, and Rick and not get blank stares. Finally, these people I had created in my head were no longer imaginary. My sisters and I could laugh about a joke one of the characters cracked. David and I had long, late night discussions about the development of certain characters. Suddenly, they were no longer imaginary friends. They were not only known to me. They became known to others in my life.
I don’t write for the money or to share profound ideas with the world. I write so that my “imaginary friends” are no longer imaginary.
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