I used to write. Before husband and kids and work and – well, life! – took over, I wrote. And I think I wasn’t half bad at it, either. I’ve been published in literary magazines and campus publications during college, but since then, I have seriously chickened out on pursuing this dream.
Husband keeps saying I should write again. I used to shake my head and ignore him, but lately the fire inside has been hotter, the urge as strong as it was years ago.
I’m participating in an online multi-day chat with numerous authors of many genres, and am enjoying the chatter immensely. One author spent time this evening encouraging me to work at publication, and to write again.
Maybe having someone who doesn’t have a personal stake in it made the difference, and maybe I will never be “THAT author” but I am an author, and I am going to pursue becoming a published one.
That, my friends, is yet something else on my life list that I shall accomplish!
When I’ve been chatty