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"Are you going to write a book one day?" my mother asked me. I had my nose stuffed in another one of Stephenie Meyer's masterpieces. I looked up at her thoughtfully, and explained that I wasn't sure if I'd ever write one. But her question got me thinking.

As much as I love them, I could never see myself writing a whole novel. But would I even write a novel? Maybe it would be a memoir. One of my favorite paperbacks of all time is an autobiography: Riding In Cars With Boys. But I never became impregnated in the 1950s and then raised a child on my own, much like Beverly Donofrio, the author, and main character of the book. Yet I'm sure my crazy days as a rebel teenager would make for a good page turner. But I'm not so sure I'd want all those experiences in print. It's a thought though. Maybe a science fiction? I did win an award in the fourth grade for my story on "The Weird Alien." Not exactly the next Star Wars, but the Child's Play Touring Theater did make it into a play and perform it at my school.

Perhaps I will just stay on the road to journalism. Short stories, blogs, and articles seem to be more my forte. But you never know where the road may lead. I read that Stephenie Meyer had the idea of Twilight come to her in a dream. The rest has been history. Perhaps I'll start writing down all my dreams.