I’m glad you’re here, even if it was against your will… I can explain!

Maggie Baldman, the blog that brought you here, was a pen name I used for years. It was writing for fun, without expectations. I never wrote “seriously,” not in the sense that I expected anyone to read it, let alone like it. I wrote because I had to. Anyone who feels compelled to create will understand that.

I’ve always had stories. Usually things that happen and get funnier in the re-telling. Sometimes fictional stories, my imagination gets carried away and I am just the stenographer, taking notes, watching to see how far it can go before a dog barks or a phone rings.  I would make a fantastic liar… I’m very good at arguing. I’ve been told more than once I could have been a lawyer. (Do you know how much school they have to suffer?? So no, I could never be a lawyer!)

It goes way back. The first time I remember writing something labeled “good” was an “F” in eighth grade English. I was humiliated when the teacher accused me verbally, when she proudly set that “F” on my desk, of plagiarism. She could not produce the original text she claimed I copied, but said the grade would stand unless I brought a parent to school.

That parent told her I absolutely wrote the paper. The teacher’s only defense: no thirteen-year-old can write like that. I stopped trying in that moment. (Which probably explains why I still write like a fourteen-year-old. I never went beyond “too good for eighth grade.”)

My only regret? She asked if she could keep that paper. How I would love to have that bold red “F” and her hand-scrawled note about stealing work framed over my desk.

Sigh

There was life and several moves and jobs and apartments, and when I found myself “settled” (in the sense I was in a comfortable position with both money and energy left at the end of the month) I took classes at the local community college, one being creative writing. I needed to know what an outsider thought of my imagination. Was there hope left in me? For me? (To confirm, of all our assignments I only got one lowly B, and that was situational. I rushed that paper and deserved the punishment.)

That detail matters, because it introduces my main character: Gam.

Gam, my grandmother, visited from New Jersey while I was taking that class. She read some of my assignments and acted impressed, in the way only a grandmother can. (If I’m being honest, I don’t take praise from family too seriously because they have to like your work, or at least pretend to, right?) During a trip to Reno, while we were waiting in line for the buffet, she asked me if I would name a character in my first book after her.

Coincidentally, my final was coming due – yeah I know, I was in Reno, homework be damned. (If nothing else, you can’t say I’m not consistent in my absolutely unbreakable habit of procrastination.) Now this was almost 20 years ago so I don’t remember exactly – the assignment was something like “Tell, Don’t Show,” we were supposed to flex our dialogue muscles. So, I wrote Gam a “book.” (technically it was a short story, four thousand words, written in a time crunch because I waited until the last minute. (again!) But also, an A, the teacher selected it as one to read to the class and her scribbled red ink was a demand to get it published. Take that 8^th grade English teacher!)

Sigh.

I was crazy proud of that story. Not only because people loved it, it was so fun to write! It was something I’d never touched before…  Oh, I’m sure you have some kind of technical name for it, I do not. I don’t study how to write or formulas or outlines.  I just get an idea. That’s where everything starts… a weird thought at 3am, or some random place that I think of in the shower, a spark that ultimately ends up on the cutting room floor.  It’s just how my brain works. (Do I admit here that I don’t read much?  Or is that something I’m supposed to be ashamed of and hide?)

Enter Dad.  He was always my proofer, my editor, the guy that knew how punctuation works.  I fed him almost every creative thing I did.  He usually reserved criticism.  He almost always laughed (whether it was funny or not) and he had the best throw-his-head-back and roar laugh.  I miss his laugh.

Sigh

Anyway, after writing a short story (with illustrations, it was actually a pretty ‘thick’ kids book) for my nieces he said.. oh hang on, I have that, I can quote that….  He said {clears throat} “…you are depriving the world of your talent by only sharing them with family.” (I’m gonna add that screenshot, so you trust me.) Then he died. Well not like right after he said that, but I lost the man that knew how commas work.

Weirdly that motivated me to try.  To do what, I don’t know.  I have this really complicated internal wiring that demands I prove my dad wrong.  Go on, laugh. All my life, if he said I couldn’t do something, I said “watch me!”  If he said I shouldn’t do something, “Wanna bet!”  We had that relationship that was sharing beers and challenging fears…. so. many. extremes!  His death inspired me – but to what end?  To prove I cannot write?  Or a last-ditch effort to make him proud?  I can’t answer that today… 

But that’s why you’re here.  That’s why I’m here.  I have a whole universe I’m working on for Gam, a collection of short stories that I, probably incorrectly, call “Geographical Fiction” because I spend hours walking google maps to make them feel real.  You probably don’t need that detail… and when I give this to AI to do a comma check it is going to tell me to remove it… but I want you to know, I’m working on something. And it might be good. It might make dad proud.  Or it might confirm my suspicions:

I’m only entertaining in small bites.  Much like candy.  You enjoy the fun size, but when you get that sharable family bucket and eat the whole thing yourself… you get a stomachache.

Which, to my point…  Unbecca Happypants is who I am now.  It’s not just a name, it’s a mood, a vibe… I even made stickers! Which is silly in and of itself but… welcome to Happypants Land, population: me. Sense: None!

My end game is to make you love me, my weirdness… my humor… my hand gestures in text… my dogs, they could be a book all by themselves! …my over the topness… all of that falls under the Happypants identity.  (On the whole, I’m usually content enough…one could say I have a jovial nature.) Since wordpress does not allow a change to an existing domain, I had no choice but to create a new one.  That system also allowed me to bring you to this new page with me. So, in conclusion, I hope you laugh, I hope you smile, I hope you tell a friend and, most importantly, I hope you hang on long enough to see Gam’s world on your shelf.

Thank you for being here.

you thought I was kidding about the stickers? 😏