Who wouldn't want a never-ending supply of Reese's Cups?
When I was a kid, I had what I guess you could call a rich inner life. I made up stories and scenarios in my head, pretty much all the time. There were scenes and dialogues and crazy adventures. Sometimes I was myself, but I was usually a character. This was in addition to playing pretend with my friends and cousins. Even when they weren't around, I was making stuff up. I did it at home, at school, even (maybe especially) at church.
I would also come up with imaginary scenarios about my house or school. I never pretended that I was a princess whose real family would come looking for her. Instead, I imagined secret passageways and hidden rooms. Once I concocted an underground room that extended from my basement bedroom under the neighbor's driveway, and decided it was full of snacks. Rows upon rows of candy bars and cookies and all the stuff I usually had to save up my allowance to buy. What? I was eleven! Even as an adult, I daydream sometimes about finding secrets. When we moved into our house, I was mightily disappointed that our attic contained only some crusty linoleum scraps and a dusty artificial Christmas tree.
Looking back, I have to wonder if that kind of imaginary exercise prepared me to be a writer. My process for writing fiction in high school and college wasn't all that different from the play-pretend I used to do as a kid, really. To my chagrin, I don't really write fiction anymore. Maybe I should start by imagining some secret tunnels or something?
How about you guys? Did you have any favorite for-pretend things when you were little? (Or not so little)
Reading: Finger Lickin' Fifteen by Janet Evanovich
Playing: Only by the Night by Kings of Leon