I thought my story would be easier to write than fiction because I did not have to make anything up. The storyline and the words were all there because it was my life. As my writing began I quickly learned writing my story was more difficult than I thought it would be. The memories came flooding back. Some were good, most were dreadful. I tried to use the romance novels I was working on as a break from writing my story. However, each time I strayed from my story to check in with those romance novels the pull back to my story became stronger and stronger. Eventually I knew my story would be my first novel; a memoir.
I was still a Mom and Wife and trying to cope with pains from previous surgeries to remove a tumor. But I knew I needed to put more focus on my story. At first it was like me writing in my journal, though the journal was a computer instead of the paper and pen I always used. As I got deeper into the story I was learning how cathartic the process was. A few months before I finished writing I decided that instead of this story sitting on my computer for the rest of it’s life, I was going to publish. At the beginning of the new year I sent my manuscript to a local publisher (geemorgan publishing). Phew! That was so satisfying. I could have wrapped up my writing career right there. A few days later I received an email in return saying my story was “compelling” and they would like to have it published. Phew! I could not believe I was going to be a published author.