About Orly Konig
I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.
Like many only kids, I had imaginary friends (one year I even went so far as making my mum go with me to buy a birthday gift and walk for blocks upon blocks around our London neighborhood looking for my friend’s house before conceding to reality). And when things went bump and crash, I would blame it on the Ghost of Scotland.
That creative flare hit a shy patch at some point and stories were relegated to the books piling up around the house. I wish I could say that I always knew I wanted to be an author. I can say that I always fantasized about becoming one. I became a writer. I wrote magazine articles and marketing brochures, web content, and ad copy. And yes, at times, it was even “creative.”
But the real creative flare-up didn’t bubble over until after my son was born. I guess it’s true that kids give you a new perspective. Mine helped peel back the dust covers on my story telling.
When I told my husband I needed a new challenge and was considering going back for my PhD, he "gently" suggested I take a writing workshop instead. Several manuscripts later, I’ve packed away those dust covers for good. And I’m back to hanging out with imaginary friends. But this time, I’m having coffee with them in Maryland while they tell me their stories.
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