Today I'm thinking about how much my own father sneaked his stories into mine.
My daddy died way too young. But every single Sunday of my life until I left for college, we gathered after church around the dinner table. There were often a few guests. My friend Keith, my own grandmother (always!), Keith's grandmother (frequently) and at least once a month, the preacher came. Oh did those stories flow!
A couple of "dining" scenes from in my first novel, Glory Be, began directly from those memories.
Last week on Twitter, somebody started a hashtag #iwritehere. It was fun seeing the writing spaces of favorite writers!
This is mine.
Yep. That's Dr. Jack, watching and inspiring me every day!
Happy Father's Day to a real-life character!