Why Write?

People tend to underestimate themselves. I don’t mean a little uncertainty about meeting a deadline or trying a new recipe—I mean, really, truly underestimating their purpose in life. I was one of those people for a long time, but it wasn’t something I thought about a lot. I finished school, went to college, got the obligatory gazillion degrees, got a better job when I got out of college, got married, had a kid… and then my world screeched to a total halt.

I realized once I had my child that I had no idea who I was. No clue whatsoever. My husband and I decided early in my pregnancy that I would stay home and raise our child. It was more my choice than his, but he supported my decision, which worked wonderfully when we moved from Florida to Georgia.

For a long time, I was happy just being a stay-at-home mom to an infant, but right about the time I morphed from a competent woman who had her life together into a sleep-deprived psycho who didn’t even remember what day of the week it was, I realized I needed more. Then came the guilt parade… because needing more than being a mother was selfish, right? Well, it felt that way when my daughter was only a few months old, and post-pregnancy hormones wreaked havoc on every aspect of my life, including the part that told me I was not a horrible person if I wanted more than feeding a baby, changing her diapers, and trying to decipher just what the heck she wanted when she was screaming like a banshee.

One night, I’d just had enough. The baby was like a mini-tornado for hours before she finally fell asleep for the night, my husband (a firefighter) was on shift, and I was too tired to care that the dishes were piled to the ceiling. All I wanted to do was pace. I paced and paced until I realized what I needed was to get the feelings in my head down on paper. I had never been one to journal, so trying to do that only made things worse. For Heaven’s sake, why couldn’t I just be like a normal person and write down how I felt?

Turns out, I’m not the only person who can’t do that. Lots of people can’t do it, so I thought I’d write a story to deal with all of my emotions (side note, I was also dealing with post-partum depression and grief over tragically losing a childhood friend to suicide.) What happened was a story that incorporated a lot of me, a little of several friends, and a heaping helping of regret all rolled into an account that became quite popular on Wattpad. The Yellow Note, my very first full-length novel, was a hit that amassed over 3 million reads before I removed it from the writing platform and published it.

That was a few years ago, and though I realize there were TONS of ways I could have made that book so much better, I also know that it is perfect just how it is because it was the first time I realized I had something to say. I could be more than a stay-home mom, a homemaker, a homeschool teacher, a personal chef, a maid, and all those other things we do all day every day. I could have a career that was all mine—directed, grown, designed, and crafted by me.

It was pretty wild to discover something I enjoyed so much in my late thirties. I know, I know, that’s not old, but when you are dog-tired, and your brain is too fried to even remember how many times you washed that load of laundry, discovering a new talent is fun and exciting.

So that’s it, the craziest thing I ever learned about myself (okay, maybe not the craziest, but the wildest I’m going to discuss with readers), and it just so happened to be something I could turn into a career I adore.

What is your passion? When did you discover it? What’s the craziest thing you ever learned about yourself?

If you are interested in reading The Yellow Note, the first book in The Secret Author Series, it is available at Amazon.

A Letter to Me

Sigh… I really wanted to be more active on my blog this year, but just about the time my schedule opened up, the world went a little sideways and every idea I had, became useless. I couldn’t exactly tell people all the best places in Savannah to find used books, or where the best coffee is, or my favorite places to write when no one could leave their homes, could I?

Well, even though the world is still a bit confusing, I decided to jump in anyway. The good Lord willing, I plan to post every Monday! I have also started revamping my social media posts, so follow me on Facebook or Instagram if you want to keep up with the latest including character interviews, contests and giveaways, book discussions, and more.

Now that’s out of the way… I decided to get back into the groove slowly by writing a letter to my future self as a way to remind me how resilient I can be. I urge you to do the same! Share them with me if you’d like (I can keep a secret!)

So, without further ado… a letter to me.

Dear Me in Ten Years,

As I write this letter to the future you, I’m ignoring all the alerts on my phone about COVID-19, that virus that rocked everyone’s world and turned society upside down with a bigger thud than that time you forgot to grease the bundt pan and the cake wouldn’t come out. You remember that—you had to whack the thing six ways from Sunday to get it out. The problem was, even though you whacked and prayed, it still came out in pieces. It looked like it went through a blender, but it was tasty all the same.

Life is like that. No matter how hard you try to plan ahead, something always gets in the way. Remember ten years ago when you thought you had it figured out? You just knew you’d finish up your master’s, get a fantastic job in finance, and never look back. Well, now, here you are hating math and loving literature.

Who would have thought? Your fifth-grade teacher, that’s who. Should have listened to him when he said you “should be a writer.” But hey, you’ll never forget the day you sat down (between Lily’s first and second nap) and wrote the first chapter of an idea you had, one that was swimming in your mind for months. It sucked. Like, really, really sucked, but it sparked something deep inside, a talent you didn’t know God gave you. And now, can you think of anything better than being a mom, homeschooling, and writing for a living?

Nope. And that is the point. Ten years in the future, something will be standing in your way again, because there is always something in the way. There’s always something threatening to topple your world, but it doesn’t have to stop your world. Don’t forget that time during a pandemic when you were more prolific than any other point in your life—seriously, woman, you taught your five-year-old how to read, released several books, wrote another, ran a household, and so much more while the world was in an uproar!

Remember to have compassion, empathy, sympathy, and patience, not only with others but also with yourself. Be kind, be loving, and above all, keep putting your faith where it belongs—in God because He did not fail you when you needed Him most.

Love, You

Now you tell me, if you could send a message back or forward in time, what would you say to yourself?

you are going to be just fine.