There’s nothing quite so intriguing as a story that is either real or seems so realistic that you can relate to it – either as a whole or perhaps just relating to a character in that story.
I’ve written entire books that were storylined from real events in my life and quite a few more that were based loosely on real events in my life. The rest of what I’ve written is fantasy … or fantasies that I have.
But what I write to you in this posting is a true story. It is not based on anything. It is an actual account of something that happened to me recently. And Stranger Than Fiction , though catchy in sound, really doesn’t even adequately describe it.
I’ve had a small handful of different jobs in my lifetime, from acting to serving to factory boredom and more. And I must say that my favorite job has been to be an author (but also, once working for the company that makes my beloved iced tea was pretty tasty, too.) Yet, in all the jobs I’ve held, I’ve never once had an experience where one job sort of “met” the other in a rather happenstance manner.
That had always been the case for me at least … until yesterday.
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