I have a tendency to slam my head into things. In the past month alone I have walked into two street signs, collided nogginwise with a soap shelf, and likely dented a variety of other surfaces I can no longer recall. On the northeast side of my cranium there is a permanent lump, like a small horn, that reminds me of my clumsiness every time I scratch that part of my head.
I attribute all of this to being a time-traveller.
Sometimes I look at my three-year-old daughter and she is still a baby, squeezing my fingertips and mumbling, "fleh beh, deh deh". Other times she is a beautiful teenager, side-lit by a window, and I wonder where the time went. It is a crazy thing to wander through life this way. It causes sign posts to appear out of nowhere, and premature horn growth, but it also instills in one the need to harness time, to give shape to the chaos: to tell stories.
I guess this is why I’ve finally decided to create a blog. When you have a memory like mine, which is one notch over none at all, it helps to document as much of your life as you can.
On this website you will find tales of the whimsical and the mundane, explorations of the creative process, and most importantly, you will watch as a confident child-writer who became a lost filmmaker becomes a writer for children. Finally.
I hope you’ll stick around to keep reminding me who I am, who I was, and who I’m in danger of becoming.