I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere between putting pen to paper 5 years ago (has it really been that long???) and these last few weeks, I’ve started to actually feel like a writer.  My first story, Journey to Chimera, I started sometime before 2008.  I don’t remember when exactly – I didn’t put enough dates or year listings in my notes then.  But sometime around then I got the initial idea for the story.   It stayed floating around in my head for a while until I finally decided that I needed to start working on…something.  I had 3 different stories I wanted to work on, and really I had started off with another one.  But this one kept pushing its way through, demanding to be told first.  So I let it.

It started with forcing myself to write, every single day, no matter what happened.  I pushed myself to keep writing more and more everyday until I finally found my rhythm.   And so I wrote.  And wrote and wrote and wrote.  I think I worked on the groundwork for the story for over a year.  I worked on it until I couldn’t legitimately find a reason to put off starting the actual book anymore.

I remember that first day I started writing.  It was a little bit terrifying.  Who was I to write a book?  How did I know it would be good to anyone else but me?  Oh my gosh, this thing is turning out to be waaaaaay to long!

And then, somewhere along the way, somewhere between Draft 1 and Draft Whatever-number-this-is, I’ve come to feel like the thing is actually completed.  Sure, there’s more touch-ups to do here and there, and my dad hasn’t finished reading it all yet (6 more chapters to go!), but I think when I hit the point where I started researching what it would take to get a real, live editor, that’s when it finally hit me – I am allowed to be a writer.  Because whether anyone else agrees or not, that’s what I am.

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