As one might assume as an author I've had my fair share of paper run-ins. There's been the ominous paper cut, to the ever-so-entertaining airplane folding that always ended in a crash and rip on the hardwood living room floors. I had paper dolls and I had diaries which will forever keep their secrets locked and sealed beneath a brass heart padlock. As a matter of fact, some of my best childhood memories are scribbled on those creased pages, and yeah I sobbed a time or two over a playground sweetheart. But if I want to spill my secrets, the go to place would be the skyscraper high stack of spiral notebooks on top of my writing desk.
I might've shed a tear over a school yard love, and I might've soared high enough to reach the ceiling fan with a single piece of paper. The thing is, if you want to get down to all the juicy details, my life works, my accomplishments, my pitfalls, and my so-so moments, well, it's all inside the numerous spiral notebooks housed inside dresser doors and stacked up against living room walls. That's where I hide my fantasies, the love poems to my husband, my writing adventures, and the small little moments when my son learned to walk. Okay, I guess y'all figured out by now I'm a sucker for paper. Paper dolls, paper bags, paper airplanes, and let's not forget "pretty" paper.
Tell me. Where are y'alls secrets housed?