This carnival fun ride I’m clinging to, this journey to authorship I decided I had enough wherewithal to undertake, started on a Saturday afternoon about three years ago, give or take a year. I was struggling through reading yet another poor book purchase, when I heard a voice say, “I could write something better than this.” That voice sounded suspiciously like my own, but I knew I would never say something like this, at least not out loud, and once I realized I said those words, I knew I couldn’t take them back. There was a witness in the room- my husband- and though he seemed to be engrossed in the Top Gear episode he watched, (you know, the good version from the UK, not the US wannabe) he heard my declaration and responded with “I’m sure you could, honey.”
The gauntlet fell to the ground and panic set in. I remember sitting there wondering whatever possessed me to say something so ridiculous, especially with my hubby nearby. In the next second I understood frustration brought me to that point. The book I was reading that day was a stinker. (I’ve kept it as a reminder for what NOT to do. No, I won’t tell you the book’s name or its author, because that would be bad form and I don’t want to be that kind of girl.) Yet another book, in a long line of books, I bought and tried to read that year, but wasn’t able to finish because it wasn’t worth the effort. Don’t get me wrong. I have a policy I stringently adhere to each time I crack a new book. It basically states that I won’t pass judgment on a book until I’m 100 pages into it. And I stick to that policy no matter how slow or boring the book might start out being.(Many times this policy has helped me dig out a diamond in the rough.) I see this approach as being more than fair, considering 100 pages is a quarter of the way through for some novels, and nearly halfway through for others. So, you can see now just how bad that book must have been.
Fast forward a few months from that Saturday in my family room, and you would find I still hadn’t decided whether or not I would pick-up the gauntlet my husband unwittingly threw down. Now, it should be stated that I have never felt the need to write- period. I wrote well enough in high school and college to get relatively decent grades, but I could never escape the lash of the teacher’s red pen, which frustrated me. Back then I found writing such a struggle and so stressful that it would never have occurred to me that writing could be thrilling and enjoyable. And at this point in time- it still hadn’t occurred to me.
Fast forward another few months and you would find me sitting at my desk, feverish under the creation of a story outline, character profiles, story research and reading everything I could get my hands on about writing fiction.
What changed my mind? The overwhelming physical need I felt to sit down and write, and the inexplicable want I held to tell a story and hopefully do it well enough so that others would want to read it and pass it on.
Now, you know how I ended up on the fun fair ride to authorship. If you stay seated and keep your hands in the cart- I’ll tell you what happened next.
If you have an insight into writing you would like to share, a story relating to your journey as an author or you would just like to be encouraging, please send your comments to firstname.lastname@example.org or use the contact form on my ‘Home Page’ menu. My team is currently working on finding an easy- to- use comment plug-in, but until they do, feel free to use either of the contact points I mentioned above. Thanks for visiting!