Hi, I’m Leah. I’ve dreamed of being a writer since I was in the fifth grade. I loved to read, but when my fifth-grade teacher said we had to spend class time writing in a journal, I balked. “Can’t I read? I don’t have anything to write about.” She said no, you have to write the entire time. What did I have to write about? It was the 80’s, and I lived in the country. We had an antenna and a black-and-white television with five channels. For you millennials, it means no cable. I know, it’s hard to imagine, but that was my life. Books were entertainment and an escape. But when my teacher said we should write about our lives, what we did, our summer vacation, I decided that would take all of ten minutes (if that). We didn’t go on vacation. I rode my bike, played with Barbies, and watched five channels in black-and-white. Whoopee!
So, I decided to make up stories.
Wow! Did I love it! I filled notebooks full of stories. In between subjects, I pulled out my notebook and wrote. At home, I lay on my bed and wrote. I ran out of ink. I wrote with pencils. I received a Trapper Keeper with a waterfall on it, filled it with paper, and wrote stories. But no one ever read them, except my teacher when she collected our journals periodically.
When I entered high school, I wanted to take journalism, but I was afraid that I couldn’t do it. I also wanted to join the yearbook staff, but again, I was afraid. I wanted to study creative writing in college, but again, being painfully shy, I couldn’t. Then life happened, and I put the dream on hold. Occasionally, I pulled out a notebook, then later my computer, and wrote. Then I put it away again.
I’m finally going to be a writer, or so I thought.
Twelve years ago, I decided I was finally going to make it a priority to finish a manuscript and publish it. I went to a writer’s conference, and I joined a writer’s group. It didn’t go the way I’d hoped, you know, things happened, and as a result, I put away the dream yet again.
Last year, I made a decision that I didn’t want to come to the end of my life and regret not living my dream to write a book. I stumbled onto a publishing program at Western Colorado University. Not knowing what I was doing, I plunged ahead. Fast forward to now, and I am four months from graduating with a Master of Arts degree and two edited books to my credit! Sure, I didn’t personally write them, but hey, it’s a definite start. I think there is definitely hope for a writing career yet! Come with me on this journey. Join my newsletter for updates on what’s new in my quest to write and publish my first book!