THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM...?

Though I mostly write about theater in this blog, I do have other interests, one of them being writing in an attempt to fulfill my overactive imagination.

Recently, I came upon a basket of old stories I knew I had but hadn't looked at since my youth. Back in those days, I had a pretty vivid imagination and loved to tell stories of the life I wish I lead. Mostly, I wrote about being friends with teen sitcom actors of the '80s, Bette Midler (back then, I was obsessed with Beaches and even hand-wrote 176 pages of what I thought the sequel should be) and a few script/story ideas for shows like Who's the Boss and somewhere there's one for Saved by the Bell. Ever since I pulled those old dot-matrix printed copies out from hiding, I keep thinking about how much I used to enjoy writing.

Don't get me wrong, I was a "cool" kid...but during my summer vacations, I found more pleasure in settling into my dad's home office and letting my imagination soar as I saved all of my ideas onto my own old school DOS floppy disk. I could sit for hours writing and often did. I hung out (or "played" as I guess we called it too) with my friends from time to time, but it was far more rewarding for me to create scenarios for myself interacting with Mark-Paul Gosselaar or Danica McKellar or being someone of influence. On some level, even at 10, 11 & 12 years old, I thought my writing was brilliant and that someday, when I became an "adult," I would achieve something amazing and that my writing would be equally recognized. Yes, I had quite the imagination and an even larger ego...particularly back then.

Back in the day, I was an avid reader too and would tear through the recent copies of The Baby-Stitter's Club or Sweet Valley High and wonder if one day I would be the next Ann M. Martin or Francine Pasqual. I loved to write because I loved the creativity and the idea of fulfilling my greatest fantasies. I found inspiration in Laura Ingalls Wilder's tales of life on the prairie and in the passion L.M. Montomery's Emily (from the Emily of New Moon Series) had for writing. It's funny...ever since I graduated from college, I don't read much of anything anymore -- it's even hard enough to get through a copy of InStyle these days. Since I stopped reading, I've also stopped writing almost altogether (except for those times when I get a burst of energy and I post something here). Back then, I always had something to say or a story to tell...I had an uninhibited imagination.

I think I realized back then that everybody has a story to tell and even though my thoughts and ideas might not appeal to everyone, the effects of my imagination might inspire somebody else and how great is that? I know it sounds perhaps a little presumptuous, but I think I always thought or maybe hoped, that on some level, I was destined for greatness and somehow each time I created these stories, I was one step closer to achieving it. As an adult, it's always a struggle to find your way back to the ideas and dreams you once held dearly...particularly when you are consciously aware that you temporarily abandoned it.