Inga M. Beck

With each year that passes the what-ifs of my life grow in number. What if my mother had gone to see a doctor before her bad health brought her to a stroke? What if I had chosen a different path in my education? What if I had continued to live with my parents instead of moving out? What if I had decided to stay in the teaching job I got at age 19 instead of going away to university? What if one of my failed relationships had lasted? What if my brother had survived that car accident? what if? what if?
Most of the time the what-ifs dont pop up so much. on other days they torture me, On those days it’s hard to make them quiet again.
But the what-ifs aren’t all bad. In fact I find that my tendency for what-ifs is what, more often than not, fuels my writing. What if there was a person who…? What if my character broke her leg? What if? what if?
What if my greatest flaws, my emotional handicap, my ability to question everything, what if that is what gives me the drive and imagination to be a writer? What if the what-ifs aren’t a curse, but a blessing? and what if, I wrote about all my own what-ifs? Then what if would no longer be an unanswered question.