One of my favorite things to do in high school was to role play. I loved being able to create a whole new character, come up with her back story and motivation, and roll with the punches a toss of the dice may bring. But, as I grew older, I found I didn’t have the time for role-playing. And I’d grown apart from the friends I used to game with.
Living in a new town with my new husband, I found I had real life roles to adjust to. His family was originally from India. He’s first generation American. And I was stumbling blind along a culture I knew little to nothing about. Fortunately, his parents were great and welcomed me into the family with open arms and went out of their way to teach me all about their religion and traditions. Best part was, they always accepted me. They were happy to teach me and answer any questions I had, but there was no pressure for me to change who I was to suit them or their culture. Then I had my first child.
This was another real role I had to find my place in. Was I going to be the chic mom with the designer stroller or the natural one with a baby sling? With ads flying at you and books by the dozens at every bookstore, trying to find your voice as a mom can be daunting. Fortunately I discovered a middle ground I was comfortable with. As it turned out I was more sling, but I did love wearing a super-styling outfit while taking my baby to the park.
Everything was good, and I was successfully adjusting to the new roles life was busy throwing at me, but it was about this time that I started really missing role-playing. I craved the escape of it and wanted to come up with new and exciting people and places again. And so I decided to take on a new role in my life. One as a writer.
It’s been a little over a year since Ink in the Blood was accepted. And this new role has had some bumps just like the others. But I think I’ve found my stride. There are lots of aspects of writing that I love, but the thing I love the most about it is I get to create again. I feel like it’s given me back a piece of my past that I hadn’t realized I was missing.