True Confessions of a Novelist Wannabe

Since I was in braces I’ve wanted to publish a novel.

During those frantic years of childbearing, when I always had one attached in utero or attached above nursing, one attached at the hip, and sometimes one on each ankle, I didn’t have a lot of time to write.

Oh, I wrote letters to my mom, endless grocery lists, and the kids’ names on things they scribbled for my fridge.

Occasionally I wrote something I thought was profound, but usually on a napkin that got used to wipe a nose, or a piece of paper that was scribbled over with red crayon.

These were the days when the only windows I had in my home, were the single-pained metal ones in my trailer. The only PC was a toddler in the bathroom pointing to their yellow puddle of victory, squealing, “Pee, see!  Mommy, see pee!”

Somewhere inbetween giving birth to six kids, homeschooling, moving a bajillion times, and going through cancer a few times, I rekindled that passion to write.

Two years ago, I joined Northwest Christian Writers’ Association and have been blessed to learn much about the writing and publishing world. I’ve made great friends and had a lot of prayer support.

Tonight, another milestone in my writing life appeared on the road, the beginning of a writing group just for fiction writers. A small, excited group, some beginners and some published, met and made plans for the coming year.

Every emotion is swirling around in my Mommy sleep-deprived brain~I’m excited, nervous, thrilled, thankful, and scared.

My personal goal is to finish  the novels I’ve started and  be published before I’m 50. That seems old to most of you, but it’s dangerously close for me.

This is my