I’ve always wanted to write (and publish) a book. I actually have old journals that say so. This is a direct quote. “I think it would be fun to be a writer but I don’t want to write-write. Your hand gets tired.” I guess I wasn’t into typewriters. And computers – not yet. Anybody remember Oregon Trail? That’s about the most computer usuage we got way back then.
I have notebooks full of fun stuff like this. They are filled with pages of things like…
1. Song lyrics (Oh how I wished I had elyrics.net back then.)
2. My school schedules
3. Lists of favorites
4. Things I did
5. Clothes I wore (No. I wasn’t that vain, but I guess it was important not to wear the same outfit too often.)
These notebooks came in handy with one of the stories I’ve written. But save that for another time.
I have many stories I started (writing by hand) from junior high. Including my Sweet Valley High knockoff. (No originality, I’ll admit it). I don’t know when I quit writing or why. I never gave up reading, although it went on hiatus while my children were babies.
Fast forward a few years after college. I started another story, but got stuck because I needed to do a lot of research on the Renaissance period.
Fast forward to January 2010. The words were floating in my head, so I finally decided to get them down. I wrote six stories (adult-chick lit maybe), but I also need to do research and take a trip to where they take place. So they have been set aside.
Then I moved onto young adult. I love my next one, but it’s a tad on the long side and I don’t want to try push it as a first time writer.
Fast forward to the current novel, Frosty. I am currently querying literary agents, whose job it is to sell my book to a publishing house. And I’ll save that for the next post.