I always dreamed of being a writer, but work and family responsibilities got in the way.
When I was 45 and my husband said, “I just saw there’s a writers’ workshop at the library, and I know you’ve wanted to write since you were a kid. You should go for it now!” So I started racing out of work early once a week to attend that workshop. And I loved it!
My husband knew of my dream; he had heard me speak about the first story I ever wrote, way back when I was in second grade. The other kids wrote a paragraph or two. I wrote ten pages about the adventures of a dog named Magic. The teacher had me read my story to the class, and I loved being acknowledged for having written something worthy of sharing.
Fast forward a few decades. As a public school district program director, I found lots of excuses to write memos, which teachers said they actually enjoyed reading. Yes, I really loved writing—and my big dream was to write a novel, to attract the attention of a reputable literary agent, and to get my book published.
With my husband’s support, I quit my job when I was not quite fifty –– and returned to my dream of being a full-time writer. Now, I have two published novels—Camp and Danny’s Mom.
I’m thrilled to be an author on tour. And my work as “the anti-bullying novelist” is making a difference. So I’ve realized my lifelong dream, and I’m making a difference.
What could be better than that?