I remember the first book that I ever wrote. I was in third grade. It was a myth/legend about how the moon got so high in the sky. I remember painstakingly editing my story, illustrating the story and drawing has never been a strong suit of mine, and turning it in expecting the worst. Much to my surprise, I got as close to a perfect grade as possible and that is when I became a writer.
Some know, many don’t. I have written a novel. It’s a fluffy, beach read, romance novel coming in at over 50K words. I wrote it in one month during NaNoWriMo in 2011. I’ve edited it, rewritten it, considered scrapping the entire kit and caboodle. I’ve shopped it to publishers and while it wasn’t accepted, it wasn’t rejected either. They asked me to revise and resubmit and the request came at such a period of change and upheaval that it completely slipped my mind. I’ve thought often of Sam and Lily. I think they want others to hear their story.
Yesterday, I opened the program that I use to write for the first time in honestly I don’t know. Months? Years? Time feels so fluid that I can’t be sure. i had to download a newer version if that tells you anything. It’s funny. This blog has become an outlet for some of the writing muscles but there are so many that are not being challenged and have started to atrophy. Hopefully by opening up to you and finally opening up Scrivener, I can start building those muscles up. I can believe in my voice. I can trust my characters.
I told my friend Brooke, who’s a fantastic writer that I felt like a butterfly fresh from the cocoon. When flapping my wings is so incredibly difficult. For the time being I’ll keep flexing my wings, and maybe some day soon I’ll have another novel to share. Maybe one day I’ll be a writer again.