Delayed Dreams

When I look back, I find it so interesting that I spent the years between fifteen and fifty not writing a word since I feel so restless these days when I’m not writing something. I didn’t even keep a decent journal during that time. As a child and a teenager, I wrote stories—mostly silly stories about girl crushes on rock stars—and then had my self-confidence, which was shaky at best, quenched by a critical creative writing class. In spite of being an avid reader, I ignored my love affair with books and words and became a nurse instead. Then a wife. Then a mother. Then a home-school teacher. Then a bookstore clerk. It wasn’t until I was fifty that I pulled a book off the shelf in that bookstore, a book about writing, and felt the first stirrings of the old passion. I had convinced myself long before that I couldn’t really write so it took a while for the dream to take hold. Now on the eve of having a book published (two and a half months, people!), I feel like it’s still a bit of a dream. My first book is not a great book. It’s not even a really, really good book, although I love the story and the characters the way a mother loves her children—wholeheartedly, in spite of all the faults. But it’s a start and the path stretches in front of me in such an inviting way. Wendell J. Berry said, “I am discomforted by the knowledge that I don’t know how to write the books that I have not yet written, but that discomfort has an excitement about it, and it is the necessary antecedent of one of the best kinds of happiness.” So completely true is this statement that I have it on my inspiration board by my desk. I can’t wait to discover the stories and meet the characters that wait just around the bend! I feel a little impatient to uncover the skills and talent that will help me tell those stories better—but being patient is the key there, and being willing to work hard. I can do that. I will do that! We had a funny quote on the refrigerator for a while (purchased by my husband) which said, “When Mama ain’t happy, nobody’s happy.” Now it should read, “When Mama ain’t writin’, nobody’s happy.” Lucky for me—and for my family—my writing refuge is only a few steps away. Please share any sage advice or inspirational stories with this newbie that you might care to!