I Never Thought I'd Be A Writer
In spite of being a honor's English student, I didn't dream of becoming a writer. My mother was a storyteller, forever spilling tales that made you laugh out loud until your face hurt. Dad wrote letters that caused your back to ache as he described camping across Australia and goose bumps to rise on your arms envisioning his plunging into the cold waters of an Adirondack lake.
I'd set my sights on nursing by the time I turned four years old. I didn't waiver from that path, although I'm sure my instructors wondered why not. At twenty-one, I began a fulfilling career that enabled me to work as a registered nurse all the way across America. In the mid sixties, I married a Texan and settled near the Gulf Coast. Starting out as an office nurse in an Ob-Gyn practice, I cried at the miraculous beauty of every delivery, relished assisting in surgery, developed and taught a course on newborn parenting, and mentored a number of nursing aspirants. Later I stepped into the world of practice management, hospital development and business.
On June 17, 2004 I received a phone call that altered the entire direction of my life. As I learned how the call came about, I had no choice but to write the story. The story turned into a book, an introduction to a magnanimous New York agent, led me to a Christian Women's Critique Group and speaking engagements. If ever I had doubts of God's grace, there were none left by the end of that first year.
Then I awakened to the fact I needed to learn how to write, to immerse a reader into the agony, the twists and turns, upheavals and sheer joy of this story. The more I learned, the more I realized I knew nothing, but I kept editing and improving techniques. I wrote a little poetry and a few short stories. I tackled another book about doing everything possible to stay out of a nursing home. The next story is true and gives me goose bumps, although it's still in my head. Step back, kids. The writer in me is on the loose!