My Own Worlds (200 words)

My father was never lost; he just took the scenic routes. This infuriated my mother, who had created plans and made motel reservations. She would read the road map while Dad meandered along a new route in a strange state until she got a headache. Eventually, he’d get to where we were supposed to be, accompanied by a lot of shouting, his good mood disappeared and all of us starving. Luckily, we never had to sleep in the car.

In the meantime, I tuned my parents out by curling up in the back seat with books, immersing myself in new worlds with new characters. I let the scenery whoosh by my window unobserved. I wanted to escape into my mind, into a fantasy land where people weren’t screaming over maps and whether we were lost.

I was lost in a kaleidoscope of fiction. Sometimes the newly spun world was a doggie story and later they became mysteries. In my teen years, I got hooked on romance novels. Eventually, I began to wonder if I could create my own worlds of words, spin my own colorful tales for others to lose themselves in. It all began during those stressful driving “vacations.”

~*~

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24 responses to “My Own Worlds (200 words)

  1. I love this. I admit because I have ADHD; I am one of the rare writers that doesn’t read. But I love how you could immerse yourself in stories to escape uncomfortable realities. Its less about books for me and more about music

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  2. My source of escape was the stack of comic books that my niece and nephew stashed away in a stair well. They own a store and the old issues were place here for safe keeping I guess. The comics offered me escape, emotional reassurance and the hope that one day I too could write as well as these dime store authors. ๐Ÿ™‚

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  3. I should mention that in those days the nearest library was a number of miles away and that my vocabulary and appreciation for the craft of writing increased geometrically. Who knew huh? ๐Ÿ™‚

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  4. People who influenced me very profoundly put a high value on books and writers, and I think I aspired to be valuable. As it turned out, what value I had had more to do with my ability to work and make a living and to provide a home for my family. Now that life has changed and made that all sort of moot, I might as well try writing a bit more ambitiously.

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  5. Could never read a line when I was in a car. Wish I could have. It doesn’t lend itself to seeming hours packed between three other kids, at least two of which are carsick at any given time, as we looped and swooped and dove and rocket-sledded around mountain roads in the Rockies, “seeing the sights” or headed for a campsite at the end of the dirt down by the lake. All of the other kids were too short to see out at all, so it was probably worse for them. All I know is if I’d read as much as a line while we were sloshing around in that Buick centrifuge, I’d have puked up stuff I ate LAST week, a thing to be avoided since a quick way to annoy the old man was to produce a chunky firehose blasting up from the kids’ row. Heh — just occurred to me that probably the time we loved mom the most was when she’d talk him into pulling over and getting us all out of the car for pictures. We’ve got tons of pictures and home movies of a pile of greenish little kids staggering with vertigo, gasping fresh air like beached fish, and being herded into Family Portrait Position at overlooks in Glacier Park. (“Smile, we’re on vacation, for chrissakes!”)

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  6. I’m like him…the journey can be as much fun as the destination.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Such opposite experiences! Car vacations with my grandparents consisted of me eavesdropping on their conversation en route or daydreaming while looking out the window because reading makes me car sick. When the day was getting to an end, Grandma would suggest finding a place to stop for the night, and she and Grandpa would discuss whether or not it was a good time or good place. If yes, she and Grandpa would go into road sign reading mode, looking for a room or town. They were a couple who knew how to couple (unlike my divorced parents).

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  8. Great use of your past experiences creating inspiration in your current life!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. I’m like AD in that I could not read in the car, which was distressing because I loved reading so much. Escape! I used books as escape when NOT in the car, thankfully.

    My parents didn’t bicker on road trips, though, so it wasn’t as important then. Even so, road trips were boring with all the samery going past, and only the exciting stops at motels or restaurants to punctuate that. So my escape then was to live in my fantasy daydream world. That, effectively, was the “writer” me creating stuff. Never made it to paper, but it was there for me to enter any time I needed to.

    Liked by 2 people

  10. Pingback: Recap – 50 Word Thursday 2019 #2 – The Haunted Wordsmith

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