I’m way more tired now.
I have much less time now.
But whenever I look into the face of my beautiful daughter Anneka I realize that life is short. Painfully, startlingly short.
So I determined a few things. I would write more. I would pray more. I would get my writing out to the public to read.
I haven’t regretted it at all.
I’ve had amazing feedback and many rewarding moments.
Jon Westernberg replied to one of my tweets praising my post Nobody Cares About Your Clever Tweet on twitter. @Inspiredtowrite, someone I have been following for awhile, messaged me on Instagram just to tell me I had a beautiful way with words, “truly,” after reading my blog post The Girl Who Found a Hometown. A reader and fellow writer messaged to say, “So glad you’re writing. You have a gorgeous writing voice.” Various other authors and readers responded to my work and began to show interest in my writing.
This meant the world to me.
I also finally found an illustrator who is partnering with me in getting my children’s book out. And I started a middle-grade novel.
Besides wanting to play the violin, wanting to write in a way that impacts the world (and maybe earns some money? maybe lots of money?) has been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember. I wrote my first poem when I was six and felt so much ownership I got into a huge meltdown argument with my mother over whether two words should be reversed or not. I strongly felt they should be as I had written them. Without knowing how to explain it, I kept saying it was more poetic the way I had it. (It was).
I wrote poetry a lot in my adolescent and teen years. It was how I dealt with all the dramatics of growing up. Love lost and all that.
I stopped writing poetry when I met my husband, Nate, because for some reason I can only write poetry when I’m not incandescently happy. (But I did write lots of love letters).
When our first daughter was born eight years later, the poetic gears kicked in again, but this time in the form of letters again, not necessarily rhyming poems.
And I realized my dream of writing was just sitting there. That the baton of youth and life was being passed to our beautiful baby girl and I was letting what might be my reason for existing lie in a decrepit basement gathering dust.
Perhaps it’s just that its time has come. Maybe I wasn’t meant to pursue this sooner. But I think the truth lies somewhere closer to, “I wish I had.”
And now I am.
I’d be honored if you would join me on this journey. Please sign up for updates about my book and other writing. You can also follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. I haven’t succombed to Snapchat yet. But I’m sure I will.
Also, what journeys are you waiting to begin? What has been calling your name your whole life that you’re putting off because of fear of failure, fear of success, or some other fear?