While I'm waiting for another load from my mountainous pile of laundry to dry (seriously...will it ever end?), I thought I'd share with my loyal readership the dream I had last night.
I was in a therapy session (not something I attend normally, but obviously sorely needed in my dream). My kind and very attentive session leader was none other than Martin Scorsese. I hear you thinking, "Why Martin Scorsese?" and the only thing I can tell you is I have no idea.
I'm not sure exactly what we were all visiting about and it wasn't my turn to share, but I did anyway. Well, actually what I did was burst into a sobbing mess of tears who desperately needed a tissue. Gratefully, Marty (that's what I call him because we're close and he's my therapy leader) was a very empathetic fellow. He stopped the poor individual I had interrupted with my outburst and asked me in his well-recognized, Italian, slightly high-pitched voice, "Oh, Laura, dear. Now what's the matter?"
Through my blubbering I could make out myself saying, "I just want to be a writer! I just want to be published!" (My subconscious is really, really revealing.)
Marty reached over, patted me kindly and said, "You will be a writer. Do you have a manuscript?"
"Yes," I said sniveling. "It's already typed in proper manuscript form: double-spaced, 12 font Times New Roman because agents hate Comic Sans. I have the word count and all!"
And then, something amazing happened. Martin Scorsese asked to see my manuscript...
And my alarm went off.
It's Who I Am
Whether as an author/illustrator at the age of five writing about a dashingly heroic cat and his cat damsel in distress or a good-natured, young raconteur describing the adventurous lives of unsuspecting patrons seated near me in restaurants, I've always made up stories. It only took me forty years to realize it is what I do best. So, welcome to Andoree, the country and creation of my imagination. Sit down and I'll spin you a tale or two.