I thought the writing bug bit me only a year and a half ago when I started working on my novel, Finding Angel. I felt an overwhelming desire to have my name on the cover of a book--a desire that seemed to hit out of the blue. But once I embraced it, I began to remember things from my youth--a sixteen-year-old me sitting on my bed with a legal pad and pen, trying to write a novel that compared with Flowers in the Attic. Oh, yeah, I may have gotten a sentence or two out before crumpling the page in frustration.
I believed I didn't have it in me. I was good at writing and I knew it--the straight A's on all of my assignments attested to that. But I didn't feel like my heart was in it. My heart beat for art. I was rarely found without a pencil in hand, sketching. I didn't realize back then that a person can have more than one skill, much less more than one passion.
But over the years, I've discovered I am a person of many passions. And when my husband said to me, "Honey, if you want to write a book, I'll be supportive," I took him up on it. I dove in head first, and I've barely come up for air since.
Writing takes everything you've got. Just like any other artform, a writer's work is a piece of her soul. Artistic masterpieces, musical masterpieces, written masterpieces--they all have that in common. It's exhausting and lonely work, and one of the most gratifying experiences possible. I believe God made us in His image, and He creates--why would we not?
Still, on a daily basis I wonder if I'm doing the wrong thing. My kids are young. Am I neglecting them by spending so much time in front of the computer? Well, we homeschool, so we have lots of interactive time. But I'm a mom. Guilt comes with the job. My house is not spotless, my truck needs to be vacuumed, dinner is usually a last-minute decision. All because I have this crazy dream, which may or may not be realized based on the publishing goals of people I haven't even met.
And then weeks like this last one happen. I've received THREE acceptances for personal essays. That makes five out of six essays that I've written scheduled for publication. The sixth was only recently submitted, so I merely haven't heard back on that one yet. I'd say that's a pretty good track record.
So, I plug on, encouraged once again that I'm on the right track.