I knew I wanted to be a writer when I was nine years old.
My fourth grade teacher set aside weekly writing time, where I took my love of reading a step further and created my own stories. At the time, most of them were simply my own life experiences, fictionalized with name changes. But it was a start, a new outlet for my creativity. I even quit Glee Club because it was in the same weekly time slot. I liked to sing, but not nearly as much as I liked to write.
Stories filled my head, and I felt compelled to put them on paper. It’s how I still feel today. But about twelve years ago, about that time when a lot of major life events began to happen (going to grad school, meeting my future husband, getting married, starting a family, moving to a new place to launch his career in museum administration…you know, all those Important Things), I stopped making time for one of my first loves. I stopped journaling, and I stopped writing fiction. I even stopped reading.
It finally drove me crazy.
Nearly a decade later, another series of events took me back to my own written word. In my new career as library support staff, I started to read again. I discovered the movement that is called National Novel Writing Month. My cousin, Lia Mack, published her debut novel, Waiting for Paint to Dry. She visited the Book Discussion Group that I facilitate to talk about her experience, the month after we read Stephen King’s memoir, On Writing. Everything culminated for me in King’s advice:
“You can, and you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will.”
So I started. There have been many more discoveries along the way, discoveries that I look forward to sharing here. But this was the start, nearly thirty years ago, and the second start, in 2015.
And now I’m in for the duration.
One thought on “When It All Started”
You will publish a book, no many books! I believe in you and Hod has His plan for you as well!
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