Ginny Fleming

On the dark and stormy night Ginny Fleming was born, the Earth shook

(somewhere), the planets swirled (somewhere – out there) and

(somewhere – in a galaxy far far away) life formed from a thick,

bubbly primordial soup, which coincidentally resembled the very

first meal Fleming prepared for her husband many, many (back

when dirt was a pup), many years ago.

Fleming first told the world she wanted to be a ballerina.

The world replied: "Tell me another one, Stumblefoot."

After that, she kept her hopes and dreams to herself.

Over the years, after failing to become a veterinarian

(her brother informed her it meant she couldn't ever eat meat

again), a nurse (they shove the thermometer **WHERE**?),

a missionary (the natives are all veterinarians, right?)

and a Wild-Wild-West-Horse-Riding-Cowgirl (all the *real*

horses live across the river and get too skinny running

the Kentucky Derby), she finally closed her eyes and listened

for that small clear voice deep inside. When at last it spoke,

Fleming thought it said:

"Artist".

After spending years painting everything that

moved, she finally threw up her hands (though she'd not really

eaten them – merely nibbled a fingernail or two) and had to

admit perhaps she'd misheard the small clear voice. Perhaps it

had not whispered "Artist" after all. Perhaps it had merely

mumbled. Perhaps it was only her stomach growling.

Somewhere along the way, Fleming stumbled across

her first computer. After cussing a blue streak and massaging

her injured toe, she looked around the room for the idiot who'd

leave a perfectly good computer in her path. Booting up the

contraption, she was surprised to hear it whisper:

"Writer".

She took that to be Word From On High and promptly

climbed the basement stairs (futilely searching for the lofty

Voice of Inspiration) and ate a chocolate cupcake (just in

case it was her stomach grumbling again).

While Fleming proudly takes credit for the death and

destruction of at least three computers, she *is* mildly

surprised to have extracted many screenplays

and novels from the Gates-Inspired Tool of the Devil.

The Southern Indiana Writers Group (SIW) regularly contribute

to her delinquency. On occasion, she returns the favor.

~o0o~

Optioned screenwriter, novelist, short-story writer... Professional Liar.