Wednesday, November 30, 2016


My interest in writing began when I took a creative writing elective course in high school. A spark ignited in me. However after graduation life quickly extinguished it. I married during the first year of college. Unfortunately, this marriage didn’t last. My first husband found someone else and left our baby daughter and me. Thankfully, a lovely man named Neal entered our lives. We married and he adopted my daughter. Over the next few years, we were blessed with four more children.

My life was full raising children, enduring teenagers (yikes), recovering from a house fire, and emotionally surviving the near-death of our youngest son and dealing with his following health issues.

Who had time to write?

When our last child left the nest, I felt as if I had been demoted from Mom in Charge to Mom Advisor. What was I to do with my life? Then a dear friend, Lois Spoon, began a critique group and invited me to join. The spark I experienced in high school reignited into a flame. I wrote in almost every genre, exploring where I fit into the writerly world. And while I enjoyed writing there was one thing that hovered over me like a black cloud—regret.

I regretted all the time lost when I could have been writing. It didn’t help that at every conference I attended the wildly successful author who keynoted started writing before he or she could walk! Who was I, an old woman in her late forties, to think she could start writing and have any success or impact at all? Even now, at the age of sixty-one, I still have those who am I moments. But if I tell myself the truth, I am a woman with stories to tell, experiences to share, and hope to give.

If you are struggling with regret for starting late—don't! Just think of the past years as research, and get on with the business of writing!

You have stories begging to be told!


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