I decided to become a writer when I was about eight years old.
My first work? The Adventures of Super Dog, followed by the sequel, The Evil Cat’s Side of the Story.
The crayon illustrations turned out well, my teacher made some nice comments, and that was it. I knew I wanted to write for the rest of my life.
Words are powerful. God used words to make our universe bloom into existence. Words have the power to change minds. To open eyes. To break hearts. To heal hurts.
To tell stories.
I got a pink journal when I was five years old to start telling my stories. The first entry was something about how I couldn’t wait to be a teenager, but not the type of teenager that does bad things. In high school, I somehow became the designated historian for my friends. I wrote down all our adventures and misadventures in a little notebook, including the time one of my friends accidentally ran over another friend’s foot before prom because she didn’t realize she had gotten out of the car (no worries, she was fine). We still read through it every once in a while, laughing so hard we can barely breathe. Now, in college, I’ve decided to become a journalist to tell more stories. A grand total of five major changes led to journalism, and that’s a story in and of itself.
My stories always seem to make more sense on paper than in spoken words, but one of my favorite things is listening to people tell stories. Around the dinner table, in passing at the checkout line, or between church pews after the service. Our stories are how people get to know us. They’re how we connect and convey the lessons we’re learning. If you know how to listen, everyone is trying to tell a story of some sort. We’re all just trying to find someone who will listen.
Taking pictures is another way I like to tell stories. I love to capture the way the sun turns everything golden some evenings, my best friends dying laughing in the car because we’re lost and very late, and even the food my family works so hard to make for Thanksgiving.
I want to remember all of it.
So I keep telling the stories — the ones that make me laugh and the ones that make me cry. The ones where my imagination goes wild with wonder and the ones that bring me back to reality by reminding me of the lessons I shouldn’t forget.
You’ll find most of my stories set in the Midwest, where I’ve always lived, but sometimes I like to venture to other places too. When I’m not writing, I’m doing things and spending time with people so that I’ll have something to write about later. You can find me hiking, biking, painting, playing card games, running late, and convincing people to take the Myers Briggs personality test so I can understand them. Otherwise, I’m probably procrastinating writing and all my other responsibilities.
Other than that, you should know that God is the one who gave me this passion for putting words on paper and Word documents. My relationship with the Lord is the reason I get up every morning. At the end of the day, I’m a mess saved only by the grace of God.
And these are my stories: The Adventures of Mic.
Now you’re part of the story too.
P.S. Mic is pronounced like mick, not mike. I was named after Dr. Michaela Quinn, called Dr. Mike, but I’m trying to do my own thing here. Although, I do love a good episode of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman.