I'M A LATE BLOOMER...

Some authors know, from early beginnings, they wanted to be writers, but not me. As a child, I enjoyed pretend play, and my favorite activity was paper dolls. My mom helped me cut dolls from discarded Sears and Montgomery Ward catalogs. It was a great day when Mom got her new catalogs.

Mom's only rule was everything had to fit inside a box that would slip beneath my bed. Lots of learning happened with that rule. For example, I learned smaller boxes could fit inside the bigger boxes so I could have more boxes for houses! My dolls had cars made from cereal boxes that would slide over the carpet. I used bottle caps and lids for furniture, and our hallway became the main street of my pretend town complete with shops and stores. My paper dolls had jobs, families, and lives.

Guess what? Playing paper dolls is a lot like writing fiction, creating make-believe worlds in which make-believe people live.

Does that mean I'm in my second childhood?