Life is a wondrous mystery that I still explore. I spent my youth “feeling” my way thought it. I traveled throughout the seventies, standing on one highway ramp or another, exploring the many corridors of our country, learning about life and what it had to offer.
In 1979, deep in winter, I settled down. I was lucky enough to become the first woman journeyman pressman of a major newspaper in Colorado. After ten years of working on printing presses, an injury would force me down another path. I had no idea what my future held, but I was fortunate; my caring and understanding husband allowed me to explore other paths.
I made and sold jewelry, cared for abandoned animals, volunteered for a horse rescue as well as a no kill shelter. I went to school for so many different careers that ended up combining my credits to get a degree in horticulture. Unfortunately, or so I thought back then, two car accidents during my last semester, my last class, prevented my pursuing it as a living.
Back then, I had no idea “someone” was pushing me to become a writer.
I had taken creative writing classes off and on throughout my college years, because I always felt the need to write. Nothing came of it, except satisfying my own desires, until that special dream guided me to write Circles, my debut novel due out in the fall of 2011.
I joined a couple writing groups to improve my skills. That did not happen until I met David Lane (aka Lane Diamond), my editor, in the group. He taught me to keep going, not to get discouraged, to write and never give up. He stuck with me and gave me the confidence I needed in myself, to let go of doubt, to move forward.
I joined another writing group and found many others on the same path. I learned from them as we all struggled to become better writers. I want to say thank you to so many in Writers Village University, but that alone would fill a page!
I give my gratitude to my husband, who cleaned house and helped care for our animals while I wrote, and to everyone who had to listen to me read my story. Thank you, Mary, for telling me I could write; I finally listened after four years. I needed to hear your words again and again, telling me I could do it, that I had the Spirit to write. Thank you, Jane, for giving me the push I needed to move forward.
And thanks to my animals, who taught me about myself through their own lives. They showed me that I had the patience to push ever onward toward my destiny, that to give up meant the end. They helped me learn that if I willed myself to wade through all the murky waters, eventuality, I would see clearly enough to move forward.
Thank you, Great Mystery, for the dreams.