The Starving Novelist
About four years after making the decision to stay home full-time with my children, I found myself going through a mid-life crisis.  This caused a depression that hit me with a vengence.  I couldn't help wondering if this was it.  Had I worked my tail off for four years in college just to be a dowdy stay-at-home soccer mom?  Is this all I would accomplish in life- being a someone's wife and mother?  Don't get me wrong, I don't regret my decision to leave my career, and I still believe being there for your children is the greatest thing you can do with your life.  BUT, I was ready for more.  I started thinking about what I wanted out of life.  The number one thing was, I didn't want to have any regrets.  I wanted to do the one thing I had promised myself years ago- write a novel. 

I have always had a vast imagination.  As a child, I did not just comb my Barbies' hair and change their clothes; my Barbies lived lives of soap-operatic proportion.  I would play for hours at a time.  I also remember writing being a big deal in elementary school (unfortunately math and science got pushed to the wayside), and I often won small writing contests.  In high school, I even had several poems and a short story published in the school's literary magazine. 

There is no doubt, I've always been drawn to writing, especially during times of struggle.  However, writing a novel was like my personal Mt. Everest.  It was one of those things I always said I wanted to do, but never had the confidence or enough determination to do it.  Like they say though, once you hit rock bottom the only way you can go is up.  This novel would be my life perserver.   

After I made this decision to write, I started to feel that familiar drive and determination within me.  I started writing on my thirty-third birthday.  I'm not going to say it was easy- I LITERALLY prayed every night for the strength and determination to continue and not give up- but I soon found myself loving it (well, for the most part- there were times I wanted to throw my laptop out the window).  I also don't want to be corny and say that writing this book saved me, but it did give me something to aspire towards.  I needed to feel that sense of accomplishment again, and this book gave me that. 

About seven months after starting it, I finished it.  Next came two months of editing and having a couple trusted people (my mom and my BFF) read it.  Finally, I was ready for the querying process.  The querying process . . . hmmm . . . on the other hand, let me stop there, because as any writer will tell you, the querying process is a whole other animal, so I think I'll save that for another blog.

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