Approaching a twenty-year mark

18 June 2006, probably American Mother's Day, lol. Enjoying a spot of afternoon tea before writing reared its amazing head.

Twenty years of crafting fiction that is. Ahem.... I feel like Future Me, writing this post. Then suddenly....

I am Future Me. Whoa! It's twenty years since my eldest daughter mentioned a writing gig, not a competition, but a collection of those who dream of crafting fiction. And I'm standing beside Past Me, watching as the future unfolds.

I see her excitement. Curiosity. Uncertainty. Which quickly turns into unbridled thrill, bordering on zeal, as a plot emerges as though out of thin air. But many notes are made, character sketches too, as November is less than two months away.

Two months that aren't only prep time, but the last two autumnal months Past Me and family will live in Britain. Not only does Past Me begin to write her first novel, she starts to unplug, albeit slowly, from an idyllic life in England.

Twenty years on from 2006 saw A LOT OF CHANGES.

Past Me was just getting to grips with turning forty. Little did she know her beloved tea with milk would turn into black tea. Or that one story begun in the UK and finished in Silicon Valley would lead to many novels, hundreds of characters, how many cliffhangers? And knowing all this makes watching my Past Self even more precious. How brave she was to heed the advice of a seventeen-year-old who knew her so well.

Writing takes HEAPS of courage. And yet, after that first book, a notion of blessedness emerged, as did first drafts as though snatched from the air. Bad writing to be sure, but novels don't improve unless the writing continues.

After that first book, Drop the Gauntlet, was released by a tiny publishing house, independent publishing became the way to present writing on one's own. Not that querying was ignored, but the stories weren't accepted, and eventually self-publishing was embraced for the liberty it presented, at no cost! Kids went off to college, leaving Past Me much time to improve as an author, for the drafts didn't cease. It seemed writing with such unstoppable energy would always be the norm.

And then Dad died. And two grandchildren were born; thankfully The Hawk had turned into more than a short story, lol. A harbinger of things to come or a sanity lifesaver? Either way, that five-year journey allowed Past Me to write, learn to sew, learn to grieve, learn to let go. The End came weeks before Mom lost a short battle to cancer, which seemed to create a gulf in Past Me's life beyond fiction. Because after Mom's death, little serious writing occurred for over two and a half years.

What followed included a move north to Humboldt County, ushering in a new chapter of life still unfolding. Then another death, that of my brother-in-law Stan, heralded the current series, but Past Me couldn't have dreamed of a life without her parents and Stan happening so soon. She probably never considering sewing quilts either, just saying.

Five months later on 20 November. Writing Drop the Gauntlet....

As I watch her sit on the living room sofa in Britain, earbuds piping tunes to her ears, a huge laptop keeping her legs warm, I know how that novel is going to end; not there in the UK, but in temporary housing after the family returns to America. A move none of them wanted, as Britain was home. But home is a fluid idea, for teenagers graduate high school, move on with their lives, eventually finding partners and starting their own families. Past Me knew none of the specific details as she wrote a first book, merely trying to not think but write. Write with abandon, with passion, not caring about mistypings or lame sentences or flat characters. Just write, because if you don't write, the dream dies. If you don't try, nothing results. If you remain fearful, happiness withers. But if you listen to someone who believes in you, who loves you, both in the corporeal and ethereal, anything is possible.

Any and everything. It's all waiting, just step out of what's comfortable, breathe deeply, and begin! Then don't forget to say Thank you, and do it all again.