I’m pretty sure birth order explains my life long tendency to exaggerate. I was born smack dab in the middle of my sibs, three years younger than my blond and beautiful older sister, three years older than my carrot top, charming clown of a brother. In those circumstances exaggeration was a necessary survival skill, the only way to get the attention in the presence of siblings who had whole bucket loads of beauty and charm I didn’t have.
The downside of my childhood bent to magnify reality still haunts me. No one in my family believed anything I say unless tangible proof was provided. They still don’t. So for several years after securing Les Stobbe as an agent, all my rellies thought I was making him up because our business was conducted via email. A few years ago, Les and I met at a writers’ conference. He took several of his clients to supper, and our waitress took picture of the five of us. Armed with proof, I snuffed out my clan’s doubts by posting an “I told you so” blog and the photo.
In case they have niggling and unrealistic suspicions about my ability to doctor photos, more proof came to light a few days ago. Les emailed to announce his new website, StobbeLiterary.com. He also asked to put some information about me on his client page. (If you scroll down on the client page, you’ll find A Different Dream for My Child listed, too.) He probably thought I agreed because the exposure could boost my career.
But if that’s what he thinks, he’s giving me too much credit. I just want more proof for the fam. And now I have. If you don’t believe me, sibs, visit StobbeLiterary.com. My agent, Les Stobbe, exists!
