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.