“All writers start out the same way: rich in dreams.”
I created Ravenwood when I was 13. The year was 1970 and I was an eighth-grade student at a small high school in northwest Pennsylvania.
From 1970 to 1974, Ravenwood took on a life of its own as I created characters and “reported” events in their lives, jotting everything down in my school-issued 3-ring binder during school hours, and typing the rest on my portable Remington typewriter at home.
I don’t think storytellers completely control their characters, which was very true for me. The characters I created took on lives of their own and did their own thing while I followed, observed, and reported.
Of all my characters, one became a center of interest: Vree Erikson. I jokingly referred to Ravenwood as Vree’s World. But it wasn’t hers. And it wasn’t mine, either. It belonged to someone else.
These selected stories, preserved from the past, are a time capsule of hundreds of hours scribbling in my notebook during study halls and free periods at school, and those weekends in my bedroom, at my desk, henpecking the keys on my typewriter, keeping the love of writing and storytelling alive.