I wrote my first novel at the age of six. It was titled "The Mouse," and it was only a couple of pages long - including illustrations! My mother saved my First Edition and every now and then I take it out and chuckle over it.
When my beloved husband suddenly died while we were vacationing in Switzerland, writing became my personal grief counselor. As owner of a busy retail travel agency, with plans to add a coffee bar, my two best stress relievers were walking and writing.
At first the writing allowed me to pour out all my emptiness and sadness. Then, the more I wrote, the more I realized that I was going to go on, I was going to be happy, and I had a lot of living left to do.
My friend, Mollie Molay, had been successful in publishing more than a dozen books with Harlequin American Romance. I'd read some of her early drafts, if she asked for my opinion on the development of her latest story. I used to love dreaming up new story scenarios for her. Finally she said, "Write it yourself." That was a kick in the head. That very night while I was out for my solitary evening walk, I asked myself if I could actually write a full length book.
I wrote a few chapters of a story and gave them to Mollie to read. She said it was a good start, but "then what?" I didn't have a clue how to plot a story, develop memorable characters or format a manuscript. I needed to take a writing class.
My first two finished manuscripts reside on a floppy disk, CD or thumb drive somewhere around here, and I certainly hope they're never found. I can't bear to erase them because they're mine, they're treasured, and like a crazy relative one hides in the attic, they're in a quiet, safe place.
As I worked to learn the craft of writing, I developed a whole new circle of friends and fellow writers. We're everywhere. I joined a writing group in Los Angeles, and then later here in Florida. I know and love writers of every genre, some published, some working toward publication, and some who've timidly dipped their toes in the vast, cold writing ocean.
Writing romance is a joy for me. Getting published - not so much. If a writer can't develop a thick skin, and learn to accept rejection after rejection, he or she should take up sword swallowing instead. It would be less painful! Things have eased up a teensy bit in this dawn of the E-book, but like many of my colleagues and friends - I want to hold a real book in my hand. Fortunately the publisher of Jelly's Big Night Out released her story in both formats.
Whether you own and love an electronic reader, or are old-fashioned like me, I hope you'll buy Jelly and enjoy reading her story about making the choice for happiniess. My to-be-released Once a Marine is a change of pace. I think you'll enjoy it.
That's what I did. But then, that's another story.
When my beloved husband suddenly died while we were vacationing in Switzerland, writing became my personal grief counselor. As owner of a busy retail travel agency, with plans to add a coffee bar, my two best stress relievers were walking and writing.
At first the writing allowed me to pour out all my emptiness and sadness. Then, the more I wrote, the more I realized that I was going to go on, I was going to be happy, and I had a lot of living left to do.
My friend, Mollie Molay, had been successful in publishing more than a dozen books with Harlequin American Romance. I'd read some of her early drafts, if she asked for my opinion on the development of her latest story. I used to love dreaming up new story scenarios for her. Finally she said, "Write it yourself." That was a kick in the head. That very night while I was out for my solitary evening walk, I asked myself if I could actually write a full length book.
I wrote a few chapters of a story and gave them to Mollie to read. She said it was a good start, but "then what?" I didn't have a clue how to plot a story, develop memorable characters or format a manuscript. I needed to take a writing class.
My first two finished manuscripts reside on a floppy disk, CD or thumb drive somewhere around here, and I certainly hope they're never found. I can't bear to erase them because they're mine, they're treasured, and like a crazy relative one hides in the attic, they're in a quiet, safe place.
As I worked to learn the craft of writing, I developed a whole new circle of friends and fellow writers. We're everywhere. I joined a writing group in Los Angeles, and then later here in Florida. I know and love writers of every genre, some published, some working toward publication, and some who've timidly dipped their toes in the vast, cold writing ocean.
Writing romance is a joy for me. Getting published - not so much. If a writer can't develop a thick skin, and learn to accept rejection after rejection, he or she should take up sword swallowing instead. It would be less painful! Things have eased up a teensy bit in this dawn of the E-book, but like many of my colleagues and friends - I want to hold a real book in my hand. Fortunately the publisher of Jelly's Big Night Out released her story in both formats.
Whether you own and love an electronic reader, or are old-fashioned like me, I hope you'll buy Jelly and enjoy reading her story about making the choice for happiniess. My to-be-released Once a Marine is a change of pace. I think you'll enjoy it.
That's what I did. But then, that's another story.
