Let’s Pretend by Sally Crosiar

Let’s Pretend by Sally Crosiar

I’m not sure how old I was when I discovered writing as a new and effective way to play “let’s pretend,” but I do remember the feeling of being able to reinvent who I was, what I did, and what I had.  In story I was what I’d always wanted to be – a teenager who sped to excitement in a creamy yellow Mustang convertible. Oh yeah.  I liked “let’s pretend!”

Most of my life, I relied on the writing of others for my pretend fix.  I always wrote – professional letters, reports, news releases, grants, even curricula.  Nothing pretend about it, but practicing all along, diagramming those sentences in my head instead of using the reams of paper that Mrs. Malone required back in fifth grade.  When I read a good story – or even one not so good – I wondered if a novelist’s skills might be something I could acquire. But with no knowledge how to begin, and no fire in the belly compelling me to say something, I just kept reading.

When I met Dave, I had something to say.  It seemed our story had a larger purpose – that we were meant to share how we found and built our lives around each other. No need to pretend, not with a story as rich and hopeful as ours. Find the Love of Your Life, well along, but not self-published in actual book form until a year and a few days after Dave died, was the lever that helped propel me through a formidable wall of loss.

Writing helped me heal, and then to move forward.  A personal ad had brought Dave and me together, but nearly ten years later, technology advances led me to meeting new guy friends via the Internet.  What an interesting adventure!  I expected to learn about prospective candidates for new love – and I did.  A lot.  Was he careful in his language?  Was he illustrative in his portrayal of himself and the turn of events that led him to my computer screen? Was he someone I would like to meet?

What I didn’t expect, as someone who thought of herself as self-aware, was to learn so much about me from the Internet dating process! Yet as I found myself filtering words to describe myself, I was amazed at the vast previously unexplored notions I discovered inside this person with whom I’d spent my whole life.  Writing taught me more than I’d imagined.

Now I find myself observing people – real, non-fiction people – and constructing full-blown “let’s pretend” circumstances from the meager scraps of chance encounters. I mold stories from my ever so slightly real people and give them hopes, dreams, drama, and human foibles of my own invention.  And then I wait and let them tell me what happens next in their story – every time I sit to write.

I meet fellow writers monthly at Wood Library for a booster shot of motivation, and then I go back to my desk and play more “let’s pretend.” It’s the very best game I know.