I’ve officially decided to call myself a writer after spending nearly a year working on my first novel (romance). No, I’m not published, yet. I guess that’s why I don’t call myself an author, yet. After reading a lot of information on various writing boards I’ve decided to self publish only because I’m impatient and know I can’t wait six months to a year for an agent to sign me and sell my book to a publisher. Then who knows how long after that before my book is actually published and put in bookstores.
The funny thing is I’m really a closet procratinator. Okay, my family will tell you I came out of that closet a long time ago, but the funny thing is although I know I procrastinate I continue to do it. Take for example the novel I’m working on. I started it August 2010 and I’m still in revisions. It’s not that I don’t have time to revise, because I do (like now), but I choose to fill it with other (many times meaningless) things.
However, I digress. From my earliest recollection I’ve loved to read and tell stories. Sometimes I would even record them or write them down. I was really turned on to writing in ninth grade when an English teacher assigned a poetry and short story journal, then had us actually create a kind of scrap book decorating each page. From then, I started keeping a journal (which one day I’ll revist), which I think helped me to find my voice at least from a first person omniscient point of view. I continued to keep journals off and on (more off than on) throughtout the years, but never had the nerve to sit down and write a complete novel thinking I ‘just wasn’t good enough.’ Although, it’s what I really wanted to do, so finally I did.
They’re still ‘works in progress,’ but I’m aiming to have my children’s book published by the end of this month. I’ll keep you posted. Thanks for joining me on my journey!