Happy St. Patrick's Day! And on this day, let me say a big thank you to my Irish ancestors who, I am convinced, gave me the gift of the gab.
Anybody who knows me will assure you I can talk. And talk. Unless I'm under extreme stress. The guy who tested me for my driver's license probably thought I was a very quiet, demure young lady.
Let me recount some of the ways this gift has stood me in good stead.
I've won awards, both trophies and money, for impromptu public speaking. Toughest competition: I was given a topic, thirty seconds to read it and think, and then I had to start talking.
I once won a solid silver medal for an impromptu speech with the following topic: "Beer bottles should be Canada's national currency."
Doing workshops or any kind of talk about writing is a lot of fun for me. I don't worry too much about making a fool of myself -- hey, I've talked in all seriousness about making beer bottles legal tender, so what's to worry about when the topic is something I do every day (or should)?
Most of all, though, my gift of the gab is what made me a writer. I love to tell stories, whether real or imagined. And most of all, I love to write dialogue. If I'm not talking, let's get those characters gabbing!
Whether my gift of the gab comes from my Irish ancestors (including the one who got shipped off to Canada because he was not, shall we say, turning out well), or some other source, I'm grateful to have it!