From a young age, I’ve wanted to be a writer. I wrote stories to entertain myself, to entertain my friends, and even entertain my family. No matter what, I was constantly writing. I even wrote poems. Not so much of a poet as I prefer prose, but I love to write.
I remember when I was a teenager, I told my dad that I wanted to be a writer. He said, “You need to be a teacher, because writers don’t make much money.”
Joke’s on him, because neither do teachers!
I did my dad’s route and went to college to become a teacher. Of course, I dropped out of college and later went back as an adult to become a teacher, but I remember purchasing an electric typewriter in college and typing out a novel. I don’t know what happened to that writing, but that made me want to write even more.
When I became a mom, I wrote down the stories I told my children.
At the age of 38, I went back to school to become a teacher, but I couldn’t find a job after graduation, so to make my income, I was a substitute teacher and wrote in my spare time. Self-publishing allowed me to have an extra income to hold me over while I looked for a permanent teaching job. However, not all of those were geared toward adults. I needed to do something more.
That’s why I ended up later, after honing my craft a little more, writing adult novels and less middle grade novels. This is finally living my dream. This is moving forward with what I want to do.
I was told by my father how much I couldn’t do it. It held me back. One day, on the radio, I heard someone talking about stepping forward on faith and not looking back. Not letting the past or other people dictate how we use our gifts, and writing was my gift. I hid it.
Now, I’m past hiding and stepping out on faith. I think that I will be fine living my dream. After all, I’m pursuing what I was always meant to do.
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