I’m not sure how many people look into the eyes of their newborn son and think to themselves, “I should be a writer,” but that was my experience. After an exhausting labor and 48 hours of little sleep, I held that small, wrinkly baby of mine and my thoughts turned back to when I was 10. That was the first time I made the goal to be a writer. I would drag my pillows and blankets from my bed and set up camp in the closet of the bedroom I shared with my two younger sisters. It was the only place I could find quiet in a family of six kids. I would spend my afternoons reading Roald Dahl and Nancy Drew books as well as filling notebooks with my own story ideas.
While in college I felt the pressure to choose a degree that would lead to something more “stable”. I chose Broadcast Communications, which taught me that I didn’t love reporting, but I enjoyed producing and putting together stories. I worked as an assistant producer and producer for various media groups and while I was good at my job, I felt drained at the end of each day. Writing always found its way in my life through blogs, journals (which I should burn before my children learn how to read), friends websites and more notebooks filled with story ideas.
During maternity leave with my son, I couldn’t shake that initial feeling I had in the hospital. I felt strongly I needed a change concerning my career. Motherhood either gave me courage or the lack of sleep lowered my inhibitions, but I decided to move forward and listen to my dreams I had as a 10-year-old and put all those notebooks filled with ideas into action. Choosing to write, for me, is choosing joy. Welcome, I hope you enjoy what I have to share.
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