A car accident led Heather Lam to happiness.

Like most things in her life, it wasn't a straight line from the intersection of Challenger Parkway and Alafaya Trail to self-fulfillment, but a constantly branching path.

"Life is a web of choices that can be plotted in a flowchart," says Lam, 32.

That would be her practical, logical left-brain self talking. Certainly the analytical side of her personality had found expression in the way she devoured mystery books and science fiction, figured out mazes, and even designed and built furniture for her Barbie dolls.

Her interest in computer programming had led her to a job with a Winter Park company that does contract work for the military -- a job that now includes programming code for maintenance of an airplane ejector seat and an attack helicopter.

But the key to unlocking the other side of Heather Lam, it turned out, lay in something that had been sitting untouched for years.

One day while she was home recovering from the herniated discs and broken wrist of her car accident, Lam started rummaging through a box she had pulled off a shelf in the den. Among the items was a 10-year-old journal.

Since childhood, Lam had kept journals and diaries, recording strange dreams and fictionalizing her strained relationship with her mother. Those voluminous journals -- which reflected the private, emotionally chaotic Heather -- had been relegated to storage.

Until now.

Lam began to read the journal and found she couldn't put it down. Among the impressions and yearnings expressed in it was a desire to become a writer.

There was also a reference to an idea for a play, one she'd never written -- but an idea that still seemed clever a decade later.

Now, after so many months of pain, both physical and emotional -- she and her husband had divorced -- she asked herself why she'd ever let go of the dream of becoming a writer.

This time she wouldn't let go.

"I'm very quick to make decisions," she says. "It was suddenly in my head that writing was what I really wanted to do."

Over several months, she began composing columns for the Web site of a women's group she had co-founded, Eccentric Ladies Tea Militia and Quilting Bee, a female alternative to male beer drinking.

"Imagine a beautiful little girl with large, clear blue eyes and hair so blond it is white," she wrote. "Imagine her losing the only family that loved her, her father and his family, to divorce when she was only 6 years old.

"Imagine, if you will, the rest of her life: a life in chaos; a life lived in pain; a life without love. Her mother did not, could not love her."

Such intensely personal writing marked a major shift for Lam. No longer stuffing away the hurtful parts of the past, she unveiled them on the Internet.

But that was just the beginning of her journey to creativity.

Lam, who has lived in Orlando for three years, soon joined another online group for budding drama writers and, in time for this year's Orlando Fringe Festival, she wrote a two-part set of short plays on the distress of dating.

True Love is a minimalist, 50-word play that can seem funny or grim, depending on the actors' interpretation, while Pickup Application is a quirky comedy that makes people feel uncomfortable about social interaction and laughter itself.

Finally, when a friend told her about a national group of actors and playwrights, No Shame Theater, Lam decided to launch a local chapter. With support from female friends, she negotiated with the Moodswing

Café on North Mills Avenue for a weekly venue.

The cafe has become a second home for Lam, a place where she unwinds, directs actors, hopsinto a play herself for a few minutes, then returns to her table -- usually accompanied by 11-year-old Avery, her son and the love of her life.

Her days are still spent writing computer programs. It's a way to support herself and her son. And left-brain Heather isn't about to quit her day job. Yet.

But right-brain Heather knows what makes her happy now. And she's determined to establish herself as a writer.

"It's rare to see both halves of the brain fully developed and used in everyday life in such different activities," says Alan Keck, a licensed psychologist in Winter Park. "It's also unusually healthy to have such balance."

Friends can see the change

Friends say that giving free rein to her creative side has changed Lam dramatically.

"After the accident, she never smiled and nothing had much meaning," says Holly Ludgate.

"Then she joined the online writing group and started getting excited about writing. You could see a change in her face."

Perhaps that change reflected the change going on in her personality, the right-brain creativity coming out to play with the left-brain logic.

"I approach both programming and play writing as a puzzle: I like to start on the edge," she says. "I'm definitely more passionate about doing plays. I like to build from dialogue and I have a good memory for conversation. I can remember dreams from when I was 6."

Her writing clearly is therapy for her.

"I could kill off exes in a play, hey, no harm done," Lam says.

Many of her plays are spiced with comedy and satire, suitable for a mature audience only. But her larger aim is to shed light on social situations from the viewpoint of the outsider she still considers herself to be -- and to pull together seemingly unrelated elements.

"I'm doing that all the time," she says. "I like seeing how outrageous I can get and having the other person unable to do anything about it. That's the problem with using the phone: I can't see if I'm bugging you. But in my plays, I can -- and I do it all the time."

Although she doesn't have a long-range blueprint for her future as an artist, Lam is preparing an application to submit to the Orange County Arts and Cultural Affairs office in hopes of gaining nonprofit status for Eccentric Ladies and opening a theater for creative women in Central Florida.

In addition, she's collaborating with a friend on an opera, Space Aliens with Split Personalities. It's a comedy-drama about a woman afraid of going insane.

"Life is a gift," Lam says. "You may not be sure who gave it to you, but you are here to appreciate it. And if you don't, you're spitting in the face of who put you here."

Life is also a fine opportunity for learning lessons that translate into art. Among the lessons she has absorbed and will tackle in future writing:

You can't control the world around you. Allow yourself to make mistakes. People will still love you, even if you are flawed.

Do not fear being ridiculous. If you want to sing and dance to mall music because it amuses you, go for it. Only you have to live with you. Too much of our lives are lived in fear of embarrassment.

Don't be afraid to engage both sides of your brain before putting your life in gear.

Chris Cobbs can be reached at ccobbs@orlandosentinel.com or 407-420-5447.