As with any new project, the hardest part is always the beginning. Once you put the words down, the rest tend to line up without fuss.
I’ve been a writer since I was a teen. I’ve always loved reading and remember looking forward to losing myself in another one of the classics whenever I had the chance. Getting a library card as a pre-teen was like winning the lottery. For a long time I imagined holding a book in my hands that began in my own dreams and was lovingly crafted until it became a physical thing that could now be held, shared and kept for all time. Those were good years and the seeds of storytelling took root early. As it so happens, the years came and went, and life took a few unfortunate turns. In other words, I dealt with a number of plot twists. Regrettably, I departed from those inner lands of the unknown and the years went on. I soon lost myself to the world of routine work and bills. The longing ache for the realms within had become an accepted part of my life until one fateful day.
On that day I looked up and saw my 40th birthday looming before me. I realized it had been years…decades since I had followed the stories that still danced along my peripheral vision while going about my day. The realization of my loss shook me like a new trauma I was unprepared for.
At that moment, I made up my mind to give myself a special gift for the coming b-day: I would either write a book at long last or admit to myself that it wasn’t in the cards… and give up on the dream altogether.
I wrote the book one word at a time, agonizing over every sentence and every strained chapter. Not the best novella ever written, but much better than I thought I could accomplish after so many years of playing with short stories that were inspired less and less. In the end, I accomplished what I dreamed. It was a small jewel of my imagination, bound in paper and available for others the world over. As long as I live, that small jewel of a story will shine bright enough to light the sky for me every single day. It rekindled my life and my purpose. No longer would routine and the capture of small moments be enough for me. Worlds awaited. Worlds and heroes and adventures never-ending.
Since leaving that fateful birthday behind me I have written a new book every year. My writing has improved from that first book and will continue to do so, for I’ve rediscovered my passion. I’ve discovered my purpose and with it, my destiny.
Today, I continue to work every day and write whenever I get the chance. The weekends are split between hikes along the California trails and writing. I enjoy writing more than I could have hoped and love to share each of my tales.
I recently chose to start a blog, and just like with my first book, the hardest part was beginning. I look forward to sharing as I continue developing as a writer. This is just the beginning, so thankfully, the hard part is over.