I know what you’re thinking: Isn’t writing on purpose? For me, it didn’t start out that way. Let me explain. I couldn’t even keep a journal. Oh, I would try, and, for a short while, I was successful. Then one thing or another got in my way and I would stop altogether. Funny thing, my dad thought it’d be a good idea for me to write things down because I was always talking. 😉 Well, unfortunately for him, that tactic didn’t work.
Fast forward to when I met my husband (many, many years later). Our love story is not traditional. We were just friends for quite a while before we began dating. Why is this relevant? Because my hubby thought I should be writing down my experiences from flying, (read my bio for info) and he thought I was a great storyteller. I attempted and failed—my thought was, writing is not my forte. The storytelling has always been something I’ve done, even my parents can attest to that.
Once we had been married for about a year, and I had given birth to our first son, he again encouraged me to write—especially after some of those crazy, vivid pregnancy dreams. Hello, hormones! I would politely laugh it off and never gave it a second thought. He would continue to mention it from time to time, but never anything more than that.
Then something happened. You see, I was not a child who loved to read, which was probably why the writing thing didn’t work. Love hind sight. I began to read when my career as a flight attendant began. I had to do something between flights. 😉 But I never had a passion for it, at least not at that time. As our family grew, my time in the air dwindled. Eventually, we made the decision for me to stay home full time. No regrets there! And being a busy mom kept me from reading anything other than children’s books.
After the birth of our third son, others began to tell me that I should write. Now, keep in mind, they thought I should write children’s books. Ha! I attempted, yet again, to start a journal. Big fat flop! I considered writing a story for my boys. And I again failed. So, I went on my merry way and thought nothing of the suggestions again. Until, I had our fourth son. Yes, we have four boys.
Things became very interesting that year. For one, I quit watching TV for twenty-one days. Why? Well, our church did the Daniel Fast, and, since I couldn’t give up food, I chose the one thing I did constantly—watch television. When you’re up nursing through the night, you have to do something. Our two youngest boys are very close in age, so I don’t think I slept more than three hours a night for a solid two years. Yikes! While on that fast, I started a prayer journal (no, it didn’t last longer than the three weeks) and consistently asked for a creative idea. We’re a single income family of six, and I wanted something to do that wouldn’t pull me away from my kids. Really, I had no idea what that would be, but I was willing to stay open to the possibilities.
During that time, I picked up a book (Twilight series) and fell in love with the characters. After that, I was hooked and became an avid reader. I began to read anything and everything from historical fiction to paranormal romance. Bet you’ve figured out my favorite genre, though I still love a good thriller from time to time. Shouldn’t have surprised me that I was drawn to a good love story, considering I loved fairy tales (Cinderella is my fav) as a little girl and watched soaps (All My Children) with my grandma (later I became a Days fan). Shocker, I’m sure. 😉
I would say my youngest was around eight-months-old (almost a full year had passed since the fast) when I had a dream of an incredibly handsome man and a gorgeous woman beside an oak tree with a tire swing. At first, I assumed I had read the scene somewhere and really didn’t give it another thought. Except, it kept reoccurring, and, each time, the voices grew louder in the dream. I woke up one night and wrote down what I had heard, thinking I wouldn’t have that dream anymore. Wrong. I had it again and again with more dialogue every time. While that was going on, my husband once again suggested I write down everything I saw and heard. Then another friend suggested I type it out. My brother recommended I join a writer’s thing online. Yet another person mentioned, in passing, I probably had a book on my hands. Of course, I didn’t do it right away. But eventually too many scenes were playing through my head, even when I wasn’t sleeping. No, I’m not crazy; although, I did worry sleep deprivation was the cause.
With the belief that if I wrote all of this down it would finally go away, I grabbed a spiral notebook and began to write. Before I realized it, I had handwritten fifty pages. The computer didn’t seem like such a bad idea, and I began to type. And, as you’ve figured out by now, a book was born. It took me a solid two years to complete. Wow, that seems like a long time! Yeah, maybe, but keep in mind I had never written anything unless you counted reports for school—quite frankly, that was a long time ago.
So, now you know how I accidentally wrote, The Stevens Place. By the way, I’m still writing, and, for the record, I’m not taking as long. At the moment, I’m working on the Strand Brothers series. I hope to introduce y’all to these amazing characters very soon. 🙂
Until next time, happy reading.