Since as long as I can remember, I’ve had an overactive imagination. My husband would call it obsessive worrying. The TV show Parenthood so eloquently called it “catastrophizing.” But you, as a writer, will understand. Tell me right now you’ve never heard a bump in the night and started imagining what it could be. A burglar? The creepy neighbor next door who, you’re pretty sure, hates you because you turned off your lights last Halloween instead of handing out candy and in turn, you both got egged? Or maybe a wild bunch of Javelina (I live a wooded area) who have been eyeing your beloved Spot for the last month and are finally here to drag him off to Animal Farm for good. (Where was he that afternoon last month, anyway?)
Say you’ve never done that with a straight face. I dare you.
I use my powers for good too. I remember a time about seven years ago when I heard a colleague of mine was getting a divorce after years together and I felt so sad for him that I began to imagine a story where they were forced to spend time together, face their troubled marriage, and fall in love with each other all over again. Or the time when my friend finally got out of an abusive relationship and while I watched her heal, I thought of all the scenarios where she would meet the most amazing man who would appreciate her and show her what real love meant. (I’m happy to say that story came true.)
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Jamie Raintree
Jamie writes what she likes to call everyday fairytale love stories, featuring the little moments in life that are truly magical. She lives in Northern Arizona with her husband and daughter and is currently editing her second novel.
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