Once upon a time, a long lifetime ago, I had all these dreams of being an author. I was going to write amazing stories that helped kids learn to read and imagine. I was going to spend my time happily in worlds and lives of my invention and thrive.
My earliest memories of my writing something that was read by someone other than mom, was in the second grade. I was back in North Carolina, after having started second grade in Florida. In Florida, I was in an advanced class, they didn't have that in North Carolina so I was actually back doing what I had done long before. Boredom. I recall that we had to write sentences using the list of spelling words. I wrote the sentences but I put it all together in the form of a story. I even underlined the words as we had been told. The teacher loved it, she read it to the class. So I did it again the next week. I got a low grade because I was only supposed to write sentences not a short story. Bummer. All of the excitement from the week before was destroyed.
My next memories was as a high school student. I wrote a lot of poetry, some the sappy love type stuff that teenagers write, and others were those odd, have to read it several times to try and figure out where that one was going poems. Those were actually fun to write. I loved writing book reports and any other writings that we were instructed to come up with. Truth be told, I wrote things for anyone who would ask, just to be able to write more. I was popular, but some liked me just long enough to do their work for them. Such is life.
During the summers I would do my chores and then spend a lot of the days writing. A friend and I were both writing these wild teenage stories of adventures with who ever was famous at that time. I'm not sure how many deserted islands were managed to get marooned on and with how many different artists, but it was fun and it was challenging and it did stretch the known boundaries outward. All of those wild stories and the teenage poetry were long ago lost. That is sad really, I wish that I had managed to keep at least some of it.
I took a children's writing correspondence course and even qualified for their advance course. Yep, send more of your money now.
Then, life as it was, happened. For a few years I traveled a very bumpy, rutted, rough road. I dealt with some storms that I never thought I would have to deal with. All of that imagination was being used to find the right path to surviving to see the next daylight. It wasn't all bad, but enough was and that is that.
Then, I returned to my roots. I returned to this short, narrow, dead end dirt road. From the main road it passes a few houses and then disappears into the woods. In those woods awaits the magic. In those woods, along the banks of the narrow, winding creeks awaited healing and the once lost imagination. In those woods, I could hear the echoes of long ago, the sounds of history that rode the winds. In those woods, I found what I had left behind.
My first paid writing was a very short couple of paragraphs to a magazine. I literally jumped for joy.
Then my son came along and writing was set on a back burner until he got a little older. As a preschooler I wrote and put together a few picture books. He and his teach really loved them
Then I found a web site that was a wonderful place for writers. Every day I wrote, inspirational poetry, through provoking, historical, odd, poetry. I wrote for challenges and for fun. Then, one challenge had me writing this poem that went on and on, epic and different than most anything I had written. The poem then evolved into a story and the story into a book of adventure, fights and dragons. Mythical creatures lurked around every bend and in every bog. It was fun to write as the characters followed me around everywhere. It was not unusual to find me talking with then at work, in the store, at home as they told me what was going on. This story became the self published Legend of Dragon's Doom.
I have also self published two books of inspirational poetry.
It was exciting when someone would purchase a book and ask me to sign it. It was exciting to do an online search and see where the books were available.
Then the web site I was enjoying imploded and was sold and everything changed. Since then even though I write, I don't write as I once did. I'm hoping that these postings for the count down to sixty will re-inspire me and set me back to doing what I enjoyed so much.
The dream is not dead. The dream and the hope is still alive, still lurking back in there somewhere with all of the characters of the dragons and poems. Maybe, if I wanted it badly enough, I could find a publisher who would be interested in what I write and I would be able to step away from the self publishing route. Or maybe, I will stay on that road so I can do what I want to with what I write. The main thing is, I need to write- something- every day.
Just as with all dreams, no matter what it is, if you dream never let it die. You may have to post pone it, you may have to set it on that back burner, but don't ever let it die. You had the dream for a reason. You believed you could do it, you wanted to do it, so don't let it die..believe in yourself. Believe in the gifts and talents you have been given and use them. You may have to use them in or for things other than what you meant for a while, but at some point, you can and will be able to use those talents to see the fulfillment of your dreams. Stand solidly in faith. It will work out if you want it badly enough, work for it hard enough and trust long enough.