Writing

I've always loved stories. Magical ones that have nothing much to do with reality are my favorite. Stories with witches are the best, I was always a witch at Halloween. What could be better than a magic wand, powers to shift reality, and a cool pointed hat? And I haven't even mentioned flying on a broom.
So, in the seventh grade I realized for the first time that I could shift reality. I could make up my own reality by writing my own stories. I began a story about a teenage witch. Yes, I used to watch Sabrina religiously. I read books even more. I soon found myself not only reading books for fun, but also reading them for instruction. Didn't take me long to realize some of my mistakes in that first attempt at becoming an author.
I got into poetry. I figured it would be easier to write. It really isn't. Over the years my need to consume as many books as possible was more important than writing my own. Besides never making the time for it, I also doubted myself. I was decent at drawing, but not fantastic. I wasn't really fantastic at anything, so why would books be any different? I put being a writer behind me and pursued other interests between just trying to make ends meet and getting a college education. And, just saying, my interests are many.
I toyed with ideas of being a criminalist, a marine biologist, a teacher, a fashion designer, a cartoonist, an actress, an interior designer, and, most recently, an archaeologist. (Still not ruling that one out. My love of history is up there with my love of books.) But, just the same, I always shifted back toward being a writer. It was always there in me, that need to create my own stories from my imagination. I cannot tell you the number of notebooks and binders I have full of story beginnings and ideas. Scraps of napkins, scratch paper, receipt paper all filled with every single whimsical daydream I've had over the years. Saving up and storing them for the big "Someday." I've always known writing is it for me. It is the thing I go back to time and again. I just had to get out of my way and let myself.
I finally did it.
I wrote a book. In about a week I should hear from the agency if they will publish it or not. Considering it is the first and only agency I sent it to, I don't think so. I'm currently working in the sequel of this childrens/teen trilogy. I won't give up. It is like my life has finally aligned to allow this to happen. Finished college. Had no options. Couldn't leave my friend/roommate who needs someone there to get her girls to and from school so she can work. With no income of my own, I was desperate enough to finally sit down at my computer and actually put in the work it takes to create a book. She pays the bills, I play nanny, and I have 6 hours on a good day to work on my book. Without her and her support, this dream I've been avoiding since seventh grade would have never been. I owe her so much.
I can now proudly say that I'm a writer. Whether or not I'll be a paid writer is still up for grabs, but I have a finished manuscript that it being passed around to friends and family while I wait for the agency's reply and work out plot issues to the second instalment.
And if anything here if spelled wrong, blame it on my phone and its annoying habit of changing my words. Not so easy blogging from a phone. Who has time to proofread?