The acknowledgments part of a book is usually my favorite even when I don't know any of the people. Every name represents a much larger contribution to either the story or the life of the author. Since my novella is part of a collection, I will not have a chance to do an acknowledgment section...so I'm going to do it in bits and pieces here.
I guess I need to start with my dad. When I was in 7th grade, I did this small creative thing on a writing assignment. I remember it quite well. I described a ball connecting with a pane of glass. My teacher wrote in red pen, "Did it break?" My father was livid. An even-keeled man, he was even more understanding of teachers since that was his profession, too. But looking at that teacher's comment, his ears turned red. I had expressed myself with creativity and this teacher wanted to put me back in a box. My dad was having none of it. He met me after school one day, marched me into that teacher's room, and said he didn't want to see any more markings which stifled creativity.
It was pretty heady stuff for an eleven year old. And it made me think I might just have a little creativity inside of me. That feeling has never left because my dad was so adamant about defending it once almost forty years ago.
Until next time,