It was exciting when Mrs. Gilbreath announced the top stories, beginning with third place, then second. Imagine my shock, surprise and delight when she began to read the winner's story and it was mine. I remember the day clearly. It was the day my passion for writing began.
Somewhere in my parents attic in a box of treasured papers, is that story with the dime still taped to the top of the page. Every now and then, I dig out the box and read my favorite stories, poems and papers from my years in school. I laugh. I cry. I sigh.
Those treasures, the dime, the poems, the A's on college papers "no one" got A's for writing from difficult professors, were what made me want to write. There was always a story whirling in my brain. I had a secret desire to become an actress. Then I discovered I had no acting talent even though I loved and felt alive on stage.
In college, reality set in. I gave up my dreams of acting or writing the next Great American Novel. Instead, I chose to direct my artistic talents to a more normal career path, public relations. I have never worked a day in this field. But, my first job out of college was as a reporter for my hometown newspaper.
Writing again. I was in heaven. I loved it. Writing the news in an interesting way, communicating to my fellow citizens, was incredible. I often reminded myself of what one of my professors called newspaper reporting. She dubbed it "literature in a hurry." I'm sure she was quoting someone else, but I do not remember who.
Literature in a hurry. Ahhhhh, literature. I loved reporting the facts, but to write literature. I could only dream. And, for many years, dreaming of writing is all I did. Until two years ago when my husband and I had a candid conversation about our life goals and dreams. He encouraged me to pursue my dream. I began writing the next day.
My usual writing spot, complete with my writing buddy, Bailey.
In my mind, a group of fictional people became real. They walk, talk and demand their stories be told. Nuances of their personalities come to life as I watch and listen strangers in stores, restaurants and cars driving down the road. A snippet of a song can spark an idea that sends me running to my computer to capture the essence of the story while it is fresh in my mind.
The name of a ranch spurs me to write a Western. The story formulates as I drive to and from Dallas. It haunts me as I work on other stories that are also pressing to get out. The new story demands research to get the facts right. How did they ranch in the 1800's? I will soon know.
In my almost completed manuscript, Doug and Julie overcome numerous obstacles as they repair their marriage in the midst of a new home, new jobs, and a new puppy.
In the book, Doug gives Julie a Black Mouth Cur puppy,
just like Bailey.
The ideas flow as I write their story. Ideas not only for them, but for secondary characters who demand I tell their story in future books. Beginning manuscripts for future stories, filled with beginning dialog, scenes, and possible conflicts, are waiting for me to finish.
Somehow, in the midst of it all, I clean house, cook dinner, keep the laundry caught up, play with the dogs and spend time with my family.
But, always in a corner of my mind, my characters are waiting, watching and whispering, calling me back to my manuscripts. Insisting I tell their story. Now. While it is fresh and new. Now. While the fire is burning hot in my heart. Now. While I have time to enjoy the luxury of being an unknown author.
Now.
Now, I need another hot cup of coffee as I return to the saga of Doug and Julie. I wonder what will happen today?
You've heard about my passion, where it began and how it burns to get out. It's your turn. Grab a cup of coffee and tell me about your passion. When did it begin? Do you have that defining moment where you knew this was what you wanted to do for the rest of your life?
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