When I started this journey, I was in my early 20s.
Needless to say, it was decades ago. At the time, it was an idea that started when I owned a bookstore and realized I had a creative bent. This seed grew and I wrote several pages, with a plot in mind.
I wrote differently back then. I would turn all the lights out, put headphones on and listen to music as I tried to craft a story. And it was pretty good. I gave it to some people to read and they liked it. I took it to a local published author. She said the writing was good but didn’t understand where I was going with it.
At the time her words struck me, and I realized I didn’t either.
And I stopped writing.
A decade later, I picked it up and re-wrote the same pages, then stopped. It seemed like I did that every decade. Jacki was very patient with me. She would read what I wrote, edit it, critique it and then it would sit.
In 2018, I decided enough was enough. I was fed up with having the story stuck in my head, still germinating. I started again. I didn’t tell anyone.
I wrote. Then when I had enough, around 100 pages, I asked Jacki to read it again. If she once again thought it was good enough with the new direction, I would continue. Low and behold, she liked it.
So I wrote. For a year. Every day off that I had. Every evening that I could. I put something down on paper. And Jacki continued to wonder where the rest of it was. That was the first time she asked.
What I realized, was that it couldn’t grow before, because my life experience wasn’t deep enough to create characters that were full scope. I needed characters that were as real as a person on the street and not just a two-dimensional figment of my imagination.
It’s taken decades to gain the life experience that has allowed this story to come together. But it is richer for the delay.