The Journey Begins

   I've often been asked how I began writing. My usual answer was that it began as a result of empty nest syndrome. After really thinking about it, I realized that my writing career began when I was a child.

   I believe the love of reading has a lot to do with my writing. I love visiting new places and different time periods through books. That love was instilled in me by my parents. One of my earliest memories is reading with my mom. Every month a new book would come in the mail. This photo shows a small portion of the books in the house where I grew up.

   I recall writing a short poem when I was in elementary school and another while in middle school. As a teenager, writing became an emotional outlet. I wrote the occasional poem but most often I would journal. I wrote only when I felt the need to rid myself of feelings and emotions that I didn’t feel comfortable sharing. To my knowledge no one ever read them. Those journals were lost or disposed of years ago.

   As an adult, I wrote the occasional poem when my children were babies and when emotions needed to be expressed. I didn’t begin to journal again until I went through a divorce. I was able to spew out a myriad of feelings onto those blank white pages and let them go.

   I often thought of writing a novel over the years. I would sit down and get a few paragraphs written before life would get in the way. Eventually, an idea and an empty nest coincided.

   There are several genres that I enjoy reading. I like westerns, science fiction, fantasy, adventure, and romance novels. But my favorite is mystery. Those stories are even better if they have a little taste of other genres as well.

   I always thought that if I ever wrote a novel that it would be a romance. That may be why I was never able to write more than a few paragraphs. I’d lose interest and never get back to it.  Once I decided to write a murder mystery things began to click.

   The story came to be a little at a time. I began writing the first three chapters one weekend while my boys were away. As I wrote, the ideas began to flow. I would write until the ideas stopped flowing or exhaustion took over. I’d begin again when time permitted. I discovered that I thoroughly enjoyed writing fiction.

   I’m not certain how long it took to complete that first book. It was at least two years and probably closer to three before I finally finished the first draft of Death on Paradise Creek.

   Now what? I shared it with my family. They encouraged me to try to have it published. I shared it with some of my colleagues. They also thought that I should have it published.

   I had accomplished my goal. I had written a novel. Was it really necessary to have it published?  What was the point in writing if not to be published? I had no idea where or how to start.

See the November 2018 post for the next chapter in

My Indie Author Journey