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I was born in the beautiful mountains of East Tennessee, near the foothills of the Smoky Mountains, surely one of the most beautiful places on earth. When I wasn’t luxuriating in the peaks and valleys, soaking up the serenity of being home, I was an Air Force brat traveling the world. I waited a lifetime to be me, a writer, but I made it–at last!
The journey hasn’t been easy but it’s been worth it.
The most irritating parts? People who come up to me and say, “I’m writing a book and it’ll be a best-seller because I’ve had such an interesting life.” (Good for you. Life should be interesting; makes the ride more fun.) OR “I’ve got a book you can write/Here’s an idea for your next book.” No, no, no. People, I have more ideas that I’ll live long enough to write.
The best parts? My name on the front cover! The knowledge that people like my work enough to actually buy it, read its entirety, and (sometimes) write a review on Amazon and/or send me fan mail. See, I want to be rich, I won’t lie, but the true pay-off for me is that one thing-people are reading my words! And when someone comes up to me and tells me in an animated voice how much they like my books…wow, there’s no way to tell you how that makes my heart smile.
I write for profit like all full-time authors. I also write for me; though they’re usually two different things. What I like to write and my most profitable books are two different things, too. So whenever I want to simply get that old feeling, the pure joy of writing for myself, to remember why I began to write all those years ago, I sit still and write a short story just for me. They’ll never be published; they’ll never be read by anyone other than me because they are FOR me. Recently I sat and wrote out in crazy detail what I envision every time I hear the song “Hotel California” by the Eagles. (LOVE the Eagles!!)
For those of you who think writing is easy-you’re right. Getting it published is a whole other story. (Pun intended) I started small then slowly, sooo slowly, gained momentum by keeping my fingers on the keyboard, my butt in the chair and learning my craft. Other than that, it’d be only a hobby instead of the career it now is.
For those of you just now venturing out into the publishing world-I wish you all the luck in the world, but luck won’t get you there. You need talent, strong perseverance, tough hide (to take rejection) and be willing to admit your work is not perfect, that you do not know every single rule there is in grammar, that you will, indeed, make spelling mistakes, and bite your tongue when you’re criticized. If you can’t do those things, maybe you should just learn to knit.