I am a little bit Irish, on my Dad's side. The other side is pure Cherokee. But they all had stories to tell, which is probably where I inherited my ability to weave an interesting tale. My Dad's mother, Grandma Ruby was the best storyteller of all! We would sit on her porch swing on hot summer days in Corpus Christi, Texas and she would tell me all about her childhood, with a little embellishment, of course. Sometimes, she would make up a story and keep me mesmerized for hours. One day I told her that she should write a book and she asked, "Who would want to read it?" I replied, "I would! I love your stories." She took a deep, decisive breath and rocked the swing with her foot for a moment before she said, "I don't think that what I have to say justifies killing a tree."
The truth is, her stories are priceless, at least to me. I would never have pursued a career in writing if I had not been exposed to her storytelling early in my life. So, in honor of Grandma Ruby, I interject a tidbit of her life into my own stories. I might model a character after her or bring to light a certain scene that depicts one of her adventures. But every word that I write is dedicated to her.
Someday, trees will be sacrificed in order to placate the many readers who prefer my novels in the physical form. For now, I have them in e-book format. I wish that Grandma Ruby had been exposed to this new way of publishing because she might have been more apt to publish some of her awesome stories. So, it is up to me to pass on the tradition of telling them, even if they come from my own inventive mind...
