Hi everyone, this is my very first blog. Yup. Now that I’m a writer I was told I should blog. OK. So now what? What do I blog about? Who wants to hear…er…read my blogs? Maybe no one I think but I’ll blog anyway.
I decided to start off with my journey into writing. I figure that I’ll put it down in writing…er…blogging…er…cyberspace and I won’t have to remember how it all occurred.
Let’s go back a decade or two to my best friend. You see, she was/is in love with romance novels, read them like candy, wrote about them in journals, reviewed them, etc. I find this behavior quirky and cute all at the same time.
Now, fast forward to 1999/2000. Her and I started to go to the Renaissance Faire. Ever been to one? It’s the most fun one can have while being dressed 🙂 We fell in love with it from the moment we stepped in the gates. We bought outfits, joined the clubs and websites, we made friends and most importantly for my story here wanted to learn the language. We decided that we would write emails to each other in Old English only, nerdy yes, but fun too. The problem was that it’s extremely difficult (at least for newbies) to talk about day to day modern stuff in Old English. So, I started to make up a story as we went along and she followed suit. We sent each other daily or almost daily emails continuing our story. We even have a name for it, Letters to Violet. Well, we wrote about 30,000 words and then life got in the way and we tabled it. Don’t worry we WILL pick it up again someday and finish it.
Fast forward to 2009. She has this epiphany, not sure what exactly it was but she announces that she’s going to write romance novels. She jumps into it head first, starts to write, joins not one but two RWA chapters, goes to the biggest convention that you can go to for romance writing and her passion and joy is intoxicating. And mostly because this behavior, this joining and networking was usually my job in our dynamic duo relationship but now it was all her and I was loving it. I was loving it but I wasn’t joining. Even though she had encouraged me and told me it was better to embark on this adventure with a partner I wasn’t buying. This was her dream not mine.
She shared all her new found knowledge with me and I listened and filed it away. I served as her beta reader and gave her feedback on her stories. But I just didn’t have the time to do it myself. My son was in half day kindergarten, I carried about 30 hours a week at work and I didn’t really have any writing talent, that I knew of anyway. I hadn’t ever considered myself a writer. And my choice of genre was all over the place. I read V.C Andrews and Koontz in H.S. My tastes now ranged from A Knight in Shining Armour to the Celestine Prophecies (which I believe now gives me a broad range to pull from). I really wasn’t a romance reader let alone a writer. And I loved film. I actually favored movies over books. Now…don’t string me up just yet. There’s actually a reason. You see, I have problems sleeping and when I read I never sleep. I actually preferred movies for the instant gratification of the end being somewhere in the 2-3 hour future. Believe me, I have the utmost respect for the written word, which is why I never thought I’d be able to do it.
Well, maybe 6 or so months passed and I was having a banner year. It all started with the toaster (which will have to be a title of at least one of my stories) and went on from there. Well, I didn’t need a brick to fall on my head to start writing, I needed a tree. Yup. A tree. A fifty foot, dead ass, rotting weeping willow.
You see, I had no car, no air conditioning, no toaster, a dead cat, a broken CD player, no money, there’s more I just blocked it out and lastly at the end of August after an expensive, exhausting and fabulous 40th luau birthday party that I threw for my husband (had to, another story) my willow tree decided to fall. Have you ever paid to get a tree removed? Not fun. There’s nothing quite like spending money, $1100.00 to be exact to remove a dead tree. You have nothing to show for it, just an empty space where a beautiful work of art once stood.
I found myself at one of the lowest points in my life, not quite as low as after the death of my Mother but pretty close. I can remember the day I had my own epiphany very clearly. I had just finished up the Twilight Saga (yes, I am a huge fan). I devoured the entire four books in 9 days and it lifted me somewhat. I found a spark, a spark of that old nostalgia for the beauty of love. I was enamored with the Twilight soundtrack. Robert Pattinson’s soulful crooning touched my core. I credit that experience along with many others as a push in the right direction.
I sat there that day in September lamenting and wishing for hope but I had none. I longed for the passion for something like my best friend had for writing. But what was my passion? What was my purpose? I found myself thinking that maybe I’d get into an accident and find it. Sick huh? Yes, but it had a basis in reality. I remembered all those expose’s I saw on people who got in some sort of crash or tragedy and started painting angel pictures or something and are now billionaires. I wanted that but then I thought that was kinda crazy to wish for a tragedy and all when I was having such a crappy time of it as it was.
Anyway, I started to put pieces together that day. Gee, my friend is having the time of her life and she’s writing. Gee, Stephanie Meyer is so inspiring. Then I saw an interview with the author of the DaVinci Code. Yes, on that very day and I kid you not, I never watch daytime TV, but I did that day.
I remembered how I had talked about the writing of Twilight with my friend. She shared with me that Stephanie had a dream about the meadow and started to write her story from there. I had shared that with my friends at work too. Then I remembered how often my friend repeated that info to me and I got to thinking. Gee. There was that day I had that pseudo dream. I say pseudo because I was napping and it was the point at which you aren’t awake but aren’t quite asleep either. I don’t know what I was thinking or fantasizing about at that time but a little snippet of a story crept in and I thought, hmmmm…that might make a good story someday and tucked it away in the recesses of my mind until that day in September.
I thought, maybe just maybe I could write about that. Maybe I had my own story in my head. Could it be that easy? Is that my life path? I didn’t know but I could sure try. People tell me I’m witty and funny. People say I articulate myself on paper very well. I wonder if I could put that into a story? I thought about it all as I cleaned my house, listened to the Twilight soundtrack and let the juices flow. It was like wires had been connected to my brain and fed it energy and thoughts. It sizzled. I cleaned and I formulated a story, my own story. I sat down that week and cranked out 20,000 words.
I was afraid to tell my friend at first. Afraid to be a dream stealer but I wanted to share it with her and get her feedback for she was indeed my inspiration. Well of course she was ecstatic and welcomed my participation because the battle that is art was getting the best of her and my email came at the most opportune time and now we officially call ourselves writing partners and we’re in it together for the long haul (which could be another story, how a partner lifts you up when you are down).
So that’s it up to my ephiphany. I’ll start it from there next time I blog. There’s plenty of off shoot stories beginning with this one and I’ll just keep blogging what’s on my mind, maybe someone else, some day will read it besides her 🙂