Writing has always been a part of my life. It began with creating stories in my head for fun when I was young. Or rather, creating characters who wrote their own stories. I never told them what to do. My characters took care of that themselves. They lived their adventures, fought, loved, and sometimes died, in my mind. It was like watching a movie in my head, seeing and hearing the characters as if I stood beside them, holding my breath, along for the ride.
As I grew older, my mother suggested I write my stories down. Such euphoria ensued, sparking a dream of one day being a published author. To hold in my hand a book of my own making would be the greatest nirvana. But life being what it is, with the necessities of having a steady income to pay the bills, and later the beloved obligations of family, the dream stayed just that — a dream. Writing remained a hobby, though in my head my characters’ stories still clamored for release.
Until now. Now, circumstances are such that my dream might actually be within reach. I am going to self-publish my novel. There… I said it. I’m going to self-publish my novel and set my characters free. Wow. Just writing the words and putting them out there is enough to make me laugh and cry at the same time.
I know this will be a huge learning experience, and there will be bumps along the road, but I will persevere until I hold my book in my hand. It may not be the best book ever written, but that’s okay. It will still be nirvana to me.
This is my journey. I invite anyone who wishes to share it with me.