Monday, August 4, 2014
When I was about fifteen years old I had a dream. An avid reader since I was very young, I had always envisioned myself as an author. My love of books took me to far away places, kingdoms, other worlds. How I longed to create something like this myself.
I was a shy child, and a little backward. My mom had been in and out of the hospital since I was about eight years old for "nervous issues." Though I had the love of my father and grandmother surrounding me, it was an extremely frightening time; the knowledge of what could happen, or what might happen always looming ever so close. Books and reading became sustenance to me. I devoured fantasy tails, losing myself for hours in places where there were no real fears, no real worries.
By my early teenage years, Mom had become well, and we were once again a family unit, whole and healthy. It was during this time, another issue would plague me.
I began noticing that my body didn't look right as I viewed myself in the mirror. Where curves should be, twisted bones stared back. Scoliosis, curvature of the spine, had found me. A year-long ordeal, a hospital stay and full body cast became the norm for me at that time. It was once again the solace I found in books as they comforted me and took me away.
It was about this time, the dream to become a writer hit me. I'd certainly read enough books. Why couldn't I put pen to paper and come up with a tale that would transport others to far and away?
My first attempt was a miserable failure. I'd written a story which was meant to be tragic and sad. I handed it to my mother, watching her, and waiting for the tears I just knew would begin to flow. Nothing of the sort happened. Mom proceeded to burst into gales of laughter. I took the offensive story from her hands, ripping it to shreds, and slunk away with my tail between my legs.
Other stories would come and go over the years. Ones I would start, never to finish them. It wasn't until my later years when I met one encouraging man that I would finally realize my dream.
The point of all this is: Believe. Believe in yourself, believe in something bigger than you. Believe that a dream can become a reality. I've not arrived "there" yet, wherever that may be. I long for a time when my name would be a household word, a "best-loved" author. But I've taken the steps to learn the craft, I've made time for classes and critique groups and spent countless hours honing and refining new stories. Whatever your dream and goals are, take the first step and believe.
This story is the result of such a belief. My labor of love, a children's/ cat lover book which I've poured much time into and tons of heart and soul. Though I've written a few other books, this particular book has been my salvation, my shining star of hope. It is my belief that many will read and enjoy it, and come away with the feelings I once felt as I was transported into make believe places and times.