I am dancing on the shores of tomorrow with the wisdom of yesterday.
When we’re young, we know not where our future lies. We dream the dreams and entertain the fancies, until reality, harsh and unyielding, directs our path in spite of our best intentions.
My intention–from about the age of seventeen or perhaps even younger–was to be a writer. I scribbled endlessly in shabby old notebooks I toted everywhere, along with baby name books (imagine the embarrassment of that in high school!) and the latest novel I was devouring. Yes, I went through a romance-reading period (the books were hand-me-downs from a favorite aunt), but usually I clasped tight to the likes of Michael Moorcock, Robert Heinlein, Ray Bradbury, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Edgar Allan Poe, Andre Norton, and a host of other assorted science fiction, horror, and fantasy writers. I was a voracious reader, consumed by it to the exclusion of my surroundings (my mother hated that!).
After college, life seemed to constantly brace itself between my dream and my energies. I worked jobs I hated (and some I loved), often for people who didn’t give one whit about my interests or capabilities. Yes, that’s right, I became a human cog grinding on an axis of simple subsistence, wearing thin, growing wearier by the day, and being drawn farther and farther from my center. In fact, life became so much about existing, by the time I had children, I had all but stopped reading. There didn’t seem to be time for even that anymore.
Of course, about that same time when my wonderful husband and I were welcoming two very lovely baby girls in the span of 2-1/2 years, I was also working at a job I loved for people I adored. (It was a real positive switch in my life, believe me.) Perhaps it was this very ground, first as office manager and then executive director of a small history museum, that gave rebirth to my imagination and my heart’s determination. So, when my kids started school, I chucked the ‘working for others’ thing and struck out on my own. And there I was, writing and reading again!
Of course, my writing was rough, from years of neglect, mostly, and because I still had much to learn about the craft. Sure, I had basic skills, a good sense of story, vivid imagination, but times had sure changed since I first studied the craft. I had much to learn. Thanks to a writer’s web site and a couple of fantastic mentors, I came along, sharpening my skills and understanding what both publishers and readers were seeking. You can’t do that in a vacuum. If you’re going to be a successful writer, you have to get feedback–if you take away nothing else from this site, remember that!
Well, I’ve prattled on long enough in this modest introduction. I thank you for stopping by and encourage you to browse the rest of the site. You’ll even find some great reading tucked amongst the gobbledy-gook marketing stuff. And I’m not just blowing smoke, real live editors and contest judges have told me so!