Hi everyone! I'm Kristina Knight, a new blogger here at WordWranglers..I'm so excited that the ladies here invited me to join them in talking about romance, writing and life! Here goes that first post!
I went to a quilting day at my church today -- before you start thinking I'm among the over 60 crowd, let me tell you I was the youngest woman there by a good 35 years. The ladies were hilarious and I started thinking about my grandma, who has been old for as long as I can remember. I love her, don't get me wrong, but she's the complete opposite of the mother-figure in the manuscript I'm working on right now. So, I started wondering where I created this person in my book -- and realized she is a composite of my great-grandmother (grandma's mom; she died when I was 13) and my paternal grandmother (who died when I was 7).
Here's what I remember about these two women: Grandma Grice (who was always referred to by both names, I don't know why, but isn't that a cool first name?) would wake up early with me in the summers when I visited her in North Carolina and walk with me for miles along the beach looking for shells. She helped me catch those little sand-bugs and fill up a jar to take home. Three days later when I cleaned out my suitcase I realized why bringing bugs home from vacation wasn't such a good idea. And then there was Big Mommy (who stood 5-feet flat and was dwarfed by my 6'2 "Big Daddy"), who talked to me and listened to my stories. She's probably the reason I'm writing today. I remember one morning when my brother and I were staying at the farm, the guys were out in the field and I was "helping" Big Mommy cook. And telling her a story of some sort. She turned to me and said, "Kristi, why don't you write this one down, so I'll always have it?" So I hopped off my high stool and headed to the front room for pencils and paper. After 30 minutes I was done and took the story in to the kitchen -- and proceeded to read it to her. I think that was the opposite of what she'd hoped for --a few minutes of quiet without my story echoing in her ear. But she just smiled and hugged me. That story hung on the refrigerator til we left. When she died, it was in a box she kept by her bed. I lost it somewhere along the line. I wish I still had it.
Now that I've grown up, my influencers are the people closest to my heart - the one's who understand my need to write and my desire to become published. The ladies on this blog are some of them, along with my husband and 'real life' friends, they keep me motivated and writing and hoping that the next call with be The Call.