Many people ask me the impossible question: “How long have you been writing?” I never know how to answer that. I learned to write in Kindergarten, and I imagine most of you did, too. Somehow, I don’t think that’s what they are asking.

When I was little I filled notepads with stories. My favorite was about a group of stuffed animals who had been wrongly donated to Goodwill.

When I was in junior high I started collecting Hardy Boys titles, so I wrote mysteries. I loved horse books, so I wrote horse books. One time I got adventurous and wrote a mystery about horses. When I became a teenager, I wrote about becoming a member of my favorite rock band.

I still have some of these treasures. None of them were ever finished. None have ever been read by anyone but me. None WILL ever be read by anyone but me, so don’t ask!

But at some point I decided that writing was not my future, the same way I decided I wouldn’t be a rock star or a great artist.

It wasn’t until years later, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the children’s section in Borders reading picture books (still before I had kids) that it dawned on me, “I could do this. I could do BETTER than this.” I never said I was humble.

I started trying to write picture books in about 1998. I joined a writer’s group. I discovered that picture books were much more difficult than they looked. I moved on to children’s chapter books. I wrote stories about bigfoots and bunnies. I was a little too timid to try writing about people.

I went to a local writer’s conference and met children’s author, Susan Fletcher. She gave my bunny book a great critique, giving me hope for the future.

Then I had kids. I planned for this. It was perfect. I’d quit my job, be a stay-at-home mom and write books. I imagined the baby cooing in a cute moses basket next to the computer desk while I happily typed away. Go ahead and laugh. I do when I think about it. It didn’t exactly work out that way.

My toddler son and I were in the backyard playing once and made up a silly rhyme about chickadees. On a lark, I sent it to Ladybug magazine. They printed it. (It actually took about two years to see it in print). I have another short poem that has been accepted for Babybug Magazine.

It wasn’t until this past fall when my youngest started first grade that I’ve had the self-discipline to get my rear in the chair and get back to work.

Someone praised me the other day on my “time management skills.” I have to be honest. I have NO time management skills. Just ask my family. I have met writers who homeschool, jiggle babies on their laps, keep their homes clean, run side-businesses and still are able to get up at dawn and write novels. That is SO not me. Thankfully my husband pitches in (oh, let’s be real, he does more than me) and doesn’t mind eating out a lot. That’s how I’ve gotten so much writing done this year.

But I do feel now that my writing is a calling. God has blessed it in so many ways this year. I no longer hem and haw when people call me a “writer.” I have confidence that I will one day have a book on the shelves. Now that God has set me on the path, I am ready to run with it. Hopefully I will remember not to run faster than He intends.

I want to say “Thank you” to those of you who have been following my blog and keeping up with my writing journey. I appreciate your interest and your prayers, more than you can even imagine.

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