Sometimes I have to question why I write. When I first started this journey I had no idea what was in store for me. My primary reason for never sharing my works with the world was fear of rejection. But after years of pushing me, I finally gave in to my husband's urgings and decided to become published.
Looking back on it with all that I know now, I shake my head and I'm ashamed to admit that I thought that was all I had to do. Yep, I thought that just because I put a book out there and told a few people about it, it would do what it do. Foolish woman!
I had no idea of all the minutes, hours, days and weeks I would have to put in building my platform, attending to my social media sites, blogging, marketing, researching, and everything else that comes along with it. I had no idea of the days and nights I would have to sacrifice with my family and friends, because being an author would also make me a slave. A slave to something that I love and I'm so passionate about.
After all, I simply wanted to write. That's all I've wanted to do since the age of 12. That's when this journey started. And it was so much fun. Something I could pick up and do when the mood hit and something I could put on the shelf until I was ready to deal with it.
Little did I know that even at the tender age of 12 I was a slave to the muse. I didn't realize it was her that called me to stop playing with my Barbie dolls, or put down a good book I was reading, or walk away from that TV show to create a piece of work. The only thing I knew was that for hours on end I was entertained. But back then, I would put it down when I thought I was finished and start on a completely different project when I became bored with the topic. There was never a complete story...not until Mr. Professor X challenged me on it in 2001.
I no longer have that option. Now I find that if I become bored and start something else, all out of the blue a few months later she's calling out to me. Whining and crying like a little bitty baby. If I continue to ignore her she starts throwing tantrums and stomping all around the creative playground of my mind, kicking aside other ideas I have, ripping to pieces my thoughts and throwing them up in the air. Then she sits her little impish ass to the side and laugh at me and says "now what?"
Then of course, I have to give in to her and do what she wants me to do. That's the only way I can get back to what I want. Of course, just like a jilted lover who's excited that his intended is once again paying him attention, I perk up and smile. I look at the sheets of paper she's allowed me to crank out, like a satiated lover looking at the rumpled sheets he and his intended just soiled with their passionate love making. And I'm overjoyed and in love with her once more. She has my heart wrapped in her hands and once more we're getting along, until...
Oh yeah, these chains on my heart forces me to humbly request that you follow this blog. Simply click the "follow," "subscribe," or "email" links in the upper right corner. If you don't...I can't tell you the torture I'll have to endure. See ya 'round.
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Inspirational women's fiction author, writing the script to my beautifully inspired life!
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