These are three titles I am bestowing next to my name because I finished my first book yesterday. It took countless pens, multiple notebooks and a year to complete, but I kept going. In the beginning, I said I couldn't write a book or even consider myself a real writer. But thanks to some creative friends, they inspired me to try. I shared each chapter with them as I finished it and they cheered me on to write another. They spoke of the characters as if they were real people and thought out loud what might happen next in the story. I had no outline, no master plan, just my imagination dripping ink on the page. Some days gobs spilled out fast as a waterfall, others nothing at all.
With over eighty-three thousand words, it is now a legitimate length novel. Who knows how many hours I spent creating it, but it was therapeutic to escape from all of the challenges life presented me the past twelve months. And it was not easy keeping all the puzzle pieces straight as the story developed. It kept my mind sharp. The commitment to write a book is enormous, but each one begins with a single word and then a sentence is formed. And then another and it begins to grow.
Maybe you say my new titles are lofty because it is unpublished. I will defend them, as no book has ever reached the shelf without a first draft. My two finger typing skills require much editing and then I will find a way to get it published. In the meantime, my words will be visually displayed in an Australian art gallery next February. Completely based on my story, a friend is painting my imagination for her solo exhibition with all new work. What an honor, I am keeping my new titles. I didn’t think I could write a book, now look at me. I did it!