There were
so many things I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to be a TV news
anchorwoman, a fashion designer, a news journalist, a nurse, a teacher and a
psychologist. That’s quite a variety. I wanted to make sure I had all the bases
covered. I was also a voracious reader. My entire family was. Memories as a kid
always involved a family member reading a book. My dad, my mom, and my older
sisters. The best vacations also involved sharing our responses to whatever
book one of us was reading at the time. My family instilled in me a huge love
for reading. It was also my escape. My childhood was lonely and
broken at times. Reading allowed me to
escape the loneliness and I found solace reading about people who experienced a
similar pain between the pages of a book. The words breathed life into these
imaginary people that I wanted to be friends with, that I wanted for family. It
also sparked a deep desire to create those same feelings of connection, relief
and escapism for another person. Ultimately, I wanted to create and help people
in the process. Teaching called the most to me at the time of college major
declaration, though. My fear of failure was strong, so strong I allowed it to
overshadow my desire. So, I went with door
number two or six if you count all my other options. I could still be creative
and I loved working with children, especially children in impoverished areas. Although
if you talked to my family they would swear I became a teacher just so I could
boss people around. In the fourteen years I taught, I felt restless, I still
felt a deep yearning to explore something different. I’m a goal oriented
person. I like challenges and I wanted to challenge myself to something bigger.
I wasn’t getting any younger and I wanted to write.
I always
wrote something, really bad poetry, random thoughts, character names, gratitude
journals, quotes, lesson plans, wish lists and ideas for novels. I started my
very first scrapbook when Princess Diana and Prince Charles were married in 1981
at the age of thirteen. I cut out pictures and wrote my own bubble quotes for
each picture. I was so proud of myself. I kept going from there, writing diary
entries, taking creative writing classes whenever I could in high school and
college, keeping journals that were cathartic and therapeutic during some dark
days in my early twenties when I was diagnosed with an auto-immune disorder
that was incredibly exhausting and as equally painful. I took a break from
teaching sixth grade in West Philadelphia so I could
figure out how to tackle this auto-immune disease, went back to school to
procure my master’s degree and started my family. When my oldest, who is now
sixteen, was ready to begin school I went back to school with her and started
teaching Kindergarten. I’ve been there ever since. I love teaching. I love
Kindergartners. They are my absolute favorite, but my yearning and restlessness
was increasing and suddenly my reading choices were changing as well. My girls
started talking about this book Twilight. I had no idea what they were talking
about and I insisted that I read it first before they did. I was hooked, but
what interested me more than anything was Stephenie Meyer’s personal story
about how she started. She inspired me to sit in my girl cave, as my husband
has affectionately dubbed it, and write something more than lesson plans. She
gave me the courage to put my ideas that gnawed at my brain on my computer screen
and actually save it and then have the nerve to label it. It was reading Jamie
McGuire’s personal story that gave me the balls to self-publish it. I never met
Jamie. She wouldn’t know me from Eve, but her story, her advice she posts on
her blog, inspired me to not be afraid. She held my hand even though she didn’t
know it, or me. For the first time in my life, I was truly going to live by my
own personal mantra, feel the fear, but do it anyway. It was time for mommy to
practice what she preached to her little people at home. It was time to go big
or go home. The clock was ticking and it wasn’t the female one, it was the life
one that kept chiming through the night, through the fog of my dreams.
I started
Choices in 2009. It’s taken me five years from beginning to the end product
you’ve purchased on Amazon. I wrote during the summer months, during holidays,
weekends, days off and sometimes these characters hijacked my sleep and I wrote
all night and then taught all day. I’ve had some major bumps in the road, some
huge failures and some huge successes writing this book. Some people are
shocked at the subject matter because I’m a Kindergartner teacher, but honestly
that’s not all I am. I am a creator. I wanted to write something outside my
realm of knowledge. Some of my friends were shocked and couldn’t understand why
I didn’t write a children’s book…um, because I didn’t want to. I wanted to
write something real, something edgy, something dark, yet promising, hopeful. I
wanted to write a big romance, but not a typical romance that’s sweet and neat.
I wanted to write something gritty and real. I wanted to write a story about a
strong woman who’s had some strong situations that forced her to feel out of
control and her response to it. I wanted to write about a character that was
forced to really examine her life. I wanted to write a story that forced this
character to ask herself the question no one wants to ask themselves, am I
happy or am I lying to myself and believing the lie? Am I just going through
the motions? I wanted to write a story about how a woman doesn’t have to
sacrifice everything about herself in order to save someone who isn’t
interested in saving themselves. When is enough? When do you draw the line in
the sand and say I need to take care of me now. Life is hard. Life gives you
cards you don’t want. Life is unfair. Life is real. Life isn’t pretty
sometimes, but it does give you choices. So, therefore, I give you Choices.
Great article Sheila!
ReplyDeleteThanks so much, victoryforyou!
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