I have always had a crazy imagination. There was a girl in my 5th grade class, whom I would describe as “normal” (I didn’t think I was normal) who thought I was crazy. She would laugh at my crazy stories. She was my Secret Santa that year and said she had found me the perfect gift: Silly Putty.
People told me I should write books because I had such a vivid imagination. My dreams were even more bizarre than my strange insights My parents tired of hearing my endless narratives of my dreams that were, in their words, strange!
By high school, I fancied the thought of writing children’s books. I figured I didn’t know much about the world of adults and the world of children was far more exciting. Anything could happen. There was nothing impossible in childhood. I fancied it, but never acted on it.
In college, taking psychology classes, I considered writing relationship/marriage self-help books. The only niggling thought was that I really had very little experience with marriage. A minor drawback, but I let it go.
Life got busy giving me that experience (I’m now on my 2nd marriage and I have 5 kids and a step-daughter from both of my marriages). With family, work, and recently finishing a master’s degree, it’s been busy. When it gets too hard, I have escaped in books. I love science fiction, time travel, historical fiction, and young adult fiction books. As I read, I find myself thinking how I would have written it differently. Last summer I challenged myself to do it: write the stories in my head.
It was not easy. I had a great premise and great characters, but I had no plot. My story languished. I was frustrated. Then over the Christmas holiday, it came together. I wrote out an outline to Eternal Souls from beginning to end. After that, every chance I had, I wrote the details of the outline in story form. It was even more enthralling than reading. It was walking and having the ground in front of me appear with each step. Instead of getting lost in a book, I created a new world.
I have heard some authors say writing is the hardest thing they have ever done. Maybe I’m doing it wrong, but I have never done any job that was easier. If the story is good, the words pour out like a dam overflowing.
It’s really exciting, and slightly terrifying, to have finally written and published a story. On this eve of my 47th birthday, my only regret is not doing it years ago.