MY JOURNEY TO WRITING

Have you ever woken up from an incredible dream and longed to stay in that world a little longer, to hover over the shoulder of the person in your dream for one more scene, just to see what would happen next? I have. Even as a child I laid in bed for hours in the morning, continuing the stories of my midnight visitors. Every car ride was the chance to disappear and see what was happening on the screen reel of my mind, taking those dreams a little further. Often you would find me sitting there, my lips moving, no sound coming out, as I stepped into the role of a character and delivered their dialogue. 

One day, as an adult, I heard an interview from a successful author who said she got the idea for her book from a dream she had. When she woke up, she thought, “I am going to see if I can write a page about it”. A page turned into a chapter and chapter into a book, and a book into a series. (Full disclosure…that book was Twilight…go team Edward!)

Shortly after hearing this, I woke from a fascinating dream. One of those ones, where it almost feels real. I fell in love with the characters and was intrigued by the storyline. I had to know what was going to happen next. The author’s voice tugged at the back of my mind, and I thought, “I’ll try writing a page…”. Before I knew it, a spark was lit inside of me that I didn’t even know could exist. 

 At first, it was a guilty pleasure as my two children napped. When nap time was no longer enough, I began staying up way too late at night to write one more scene. I couldn’t get enough. I was hooked. Thinking about my characters while folding laundry, daydreaming about the story while doing the dishes. I loved it. 

But I also wrestled with it.

How was any of this okay? I was obviously having way too much fun writing, and it was just a hobby. What good was coming from it? How did it make a difference? Why did it matter? 

Guilt flooded me. I should be spending my time, energy and thoughts better elsewhere. There had to be more that I could do with my life than waste it on silly stories that no one beside my best-friend, sister, and husband would read. Defeated, I gave up writing. But, like a fresh tray of warm double-chocolate brownies, I kept going back to it, even though it seemed it's only outcome would be a dopamine hangover. 

Again, and again I wrestled with it. Feeling guilty, but also feeling compelled. Eventually, my kids stopped taking naps and my family grew as we adopted two older children and I gave birth to our youngest son, who never took a nap a day in his life. Through countless revisions on a story that seemed like it was going nowhere, and my spare time dwindling to almost nothing, I decided to let go of my young adult story and try writing some children’s stories, hoping that I could actually complete something. Through that process, Cowboy Wyatt and Jailbird Wyatt were created. 

Working with a hybrid publisher, I launched Cowboy Wyatt into the world. It was so much fun! I got to put on events, and do read-aloud’s in classrooms with my four-year old son, Wyatt, dressed up in his cowboy vest and boots. Less than a year into its debut, and just as Jailbird Wyatt was about to be released, the publisher I worked with underwent some changes, leaving me with the opportunity to pull my story, along with the rights from their publishing house. My intentions to pursue a different publishing option ended with the news of my mother’s cancer diagnosis. Writing went to the distant background as being present and caring for my mother became the top priority. 

After two years of battling cancer, and filling every second we could with sweet memories, my mother went home to be with Jesus and I embarked on homeschooling my children while dealing with the aftermath of a great loss. Writing seemed to be a thing of the past, a stale brownie crumb that needed to be tossed while swearing never to make (eat) another (entire) batch again. I quit it for good. Or so I thought. 

Of course God had other plans. Over the course of my writing journey, and wrestling with whether or not I should give in to my guilty pleasure, people would approach me, saying out of the blue things to me like: “I was supposed to be writing”; “God was calling me to be a writer”. I didn’t understand any of it because it felt like my writing was going nowhere. I had several uncompleted young adult stories, boxes of published children’s stories locked up in my garage, and nothing to show for any of it. How could God be in any of it?

After several more divine words from people, I stopped playing tug-a-war with my desire and explored a new story idea based on another dream I had. My kids were older and I had a little more “free-time”, so I committed to writing every week. My husband and children cheered me on and in a matter of months I had completed my first young adult story, Into the Veil. 

With my kids back in public school, I now get to dedicate most of the school day to writing, also called doing ten thousand edits on my book, (not to mention cooking or cleaning, or the hundreds of thousands of other things every mama does). But somewhere over the years, writing transitioned from a “quick fix” to a calling. Time and time again I have had to make the decision to be obedient to God and continue with the writing process, even when it's feeling too vulnerable, even when it feels like I am so far from “good enough”. 

No matter what the publishing journey looks like, I am excited to, one way or another, get my stories out there. I finally came to the realization that writing is not a guilty pleasure, nor an indulgent batch of brownies that needs to be secretly hidden in the pantry, but instead a decadent offering to the most creative being in the universe. The bible says, God gives us both the desire and the power to do what pleases Him. My desire to write is a God-given desire, one that I hope is palatable in His eyes, and one that I pray makes this world a better place. 

So for the rest of my life, I will keep on dreaming and writing. And if you ever catch a glimpse of me staring off into the distance and my lips moving quietly to myself, just know…it's going to be a good story.