When I was ten years old, I got an idea for a book. The story would be about a lonely eleven year old boy, growing up in rural Minnesota, whose only friend was a robot. To everybody else this robot looked like a normal human, but this lonely boy knew the robot’s secret. I started jotting down ideas in my diary and planned on starting to write it, but I was ten and other things had more priority and well, I was ten.
Time moved along.
Those early ideas I wrote in my diary led to other ideas and eventually I studied theatre and then playwriting and wrote plays. A lot of plays. I write at least one new play every year if not more, and do the playwright thing – sending work out, having readings once in a while, getting productions once in a while. But for some reason this early, early idea of that lonely boy and that robot never really left me. And I had always wanted to write novels as well, so I thought, okay, I better explore this project.
It took me about seven years from start to finish, and what was one novel became three. The original idea evolved, so now the lonely eleven year old became a lonely sixteen year old. The robot best friend became the main character’s older, less than supportive brother, and instead of a robot, he became a cyborg. That led to a lot other questions. How did this cyborg get to rural Minnesota? Why does he look like his brother? Who made the cyborg? All of those questions caused the story to expand into a much larger canvas. An exhausting, rewarding project.
Now that the writing is done, what happens now? That’s the next question. I’ll update this blog with what’s going on with the novels. Onto the adventure….