My First Book

Once upon a time, a 10-year-old girl was told that her stories were remarkably interesting and well-detailed. An English teacher encouraged her to write again and again. The girl was often given back papers covered in long red lines like dragons flying across a cloudy sky. The last sentence in that Christmas red pen often read "I'm interested in reading more!" or "Excellent Story!" Sometimes, the paper looked like a murder scene, and it took the girl a considerable amount of grit and patience to read the words the teacher had written. The sight of those papers left her feeling insignificant and stupid, but through the tears, she saw that the last line in red always said, "Tell me more." This continued with the next English teacher and the next, all the way to high school. She was published in school-sponsored booklets and newspapers. She found something she loved, and it filled her days, her nights, and even her dreams. But in the middle of her high school years, this fantasy world she had created came crashing to an end, and real life took its place. There was no room for make-believe stories full of magical fairies, singing swords, and dragon rides. And the girl stopped writing.

        That girl was me. And though there are times I sit back and wonder what could have happened, I never wish that anything different would have happened. When you wish for something to be different from your past, you risk what you have now and in this life's future. Now, I have a beautiful family, an amazingly supportive husband, a home, and a community at my fingertips. Nothing I have today would have been possible if my life were different in any aspect.

        Based on those earliest life-altering experiences- the good, the bad, and the very ugly- I have written my first picture book, The Me I See: The Ever-Changing Sea with the exceptionally talented help of a longtime friend,
Barry Williams. When I first thought about writing again three years ago, I knew I wanted to write something that could resonate with all ages. I wanted something that was like Dr. Seuss, like Shel Silverstein, like an Aesop Fable, but still rang out in my own voice and in my own way. It is my first attempt at a new dream. I do not have delusions of instantaneous grandeur, but what I can say with confidence is that I wrote a story. To completion. That I like. And my friend likes it enough that he wanted to illustrate it.

Barry is completing the last pages of my story this month. Soon, I will see if anyone is interested in supporting and publishing it. I do not know where this path will lead me, nor do I have any expectations of where it should go. As for most writers, writing fulfills something deeply personal and gratifying. So, for today, I take joy in knowing that I can write and that I want to write, again.