I’m being interviewed today about my writing process. In typical “Becca” fashion, that means I’ve spent hours thinking about it so I’ll be prepared to answer. A big part of my process is spending hours alone thinking through hundreds of different angles to a story. I usually start with a plot, then possible plot twists, then what kind of personality would have the most trouble handling those events, and finally what character arc would get them from point A to point Z.This process can take weeks. Sometimes months. It looks like I’m doing nothing when—in fact—I’m working through a very complicated process.Which got me thinking about something else.Me.I’ve written before about what a revelation it was to realize I’m an artist. Today I realized something else. I like living inside my head. I like having time to mull things over for long periods of time. “La-la Land” is my home planet. But it’s not a place highly prized by teachers and parents.Which means my formative years were spent thinking there was something wrong with me.Because the other thing which is true of me is that I value being perceived as competent. In school, that meant getting good grades as they are the measure of competence. You don’t get good grades by going to La-la Land. From the time I was in kindergarten, teachers said I spent too much time day-dreaming. It was bad or wrong or inefficient or whatever other adjective you want to fill in.Yet this rich inner life I have—the place where I can take one small thing and turn it into a whole novel—is the very thing I like best about me. I wonder…how many other artists have spent years thinking the best part of them is wrong?Please don’t think I’m blaming my parents or teachers. I’ve been both. I know the stresses they are under. They weren’t wrong to require me to focus on the task at hand, but at some point I need to let go of what made me a good student and embrace what makes me a good me.That point is today.