When I was a kid, I would read book after book. There were days when my dad would be yelling at me to go outside because I had read an entire Stephen King or John Grisham novel in a single day. I was always dreaming up stories of my own, developing characters that I built on and improved through the years. I spent many days writing stories, putting my imagination on the page with varying amounts of success. But I eventually settled in to a normal job, first in banking and then moving to IT.
Writing was a dream that never went away. I wrote a book in 2009, participating in my second NANOWRIMO. I felt good about it, and sent the first couple of chapters to a few dozen agents and publishers to see if I could get a publishing deal over a period of a couple of years. Like thousands of writers before me, I got nothing but rejection letters. So many that it broke my self-confidence and I gave up for too long.
The dream grew stronger, though, and as I aged I started to realize I had to act on it or always be disappointed in myself for giving up. In November of 2019 I finally started writing again. I won’t lie and say it was easy; starting something is always hard and takes a lot of effort. The difference this time is that my self-confidence stayed strong and I enjoyed the book I was writing. I loved the characters, I loved the thought of where I plan to take those characters, and I couldn’t wait to sit down at the computer and write more the next day when I got home from work.
It is January of 2020 now, and with luck I hope to have that first book through several drafts and a professional edit by April or May. The hope is to publish in June, July at the latest. The greater hope is that anyone reading this will also read my books, and enjoy them as much as I enjoy creating them.