Not Giving Up When I Could Have

How did I come to write the way I do? Why do I write it? The answers are: My Grandfather (Papa) and the passion I have for writing.

I started out with the start of a children's book when I was in junior high. Following that I tried my hand at writing poetry. Not that it was a bad attempt since I was young, but I did make the effort. Then life happened. My Papa had fallen ill and I was helping my Grandmother (Grams) with him. So...I postponed writing my YA novel. After I turned 22, he had taken a turn for the worse and I was even busier. Between the time I was at the hospital and dealing with things for my Grams, I "didn't have time" to write. Instead of making time, I threw in the towel for awhile and hoped that I would someday write that novel. Two months later he passed and I fell into a deep depression while trying to hold my Grams together. Then somehow I managed to pull my act together and begin that novel. It was a sort of stress reliever. I enjoyed it. It made me feel good and gave me a confidence that I had never known.

Two years later my Great-Grandfather (Pee-Paw) was stricken with a cancer that had spread through his body. The doctors couldn't treat it. So we placed him in hospice. They were wonderful but it didn't take away my pain or stop me from doing things for Mee-Maw and Grams. Yet again...I was stuck tending to my Great-Grandma (Mee-Maw) AND Grams. Here we go again. I was never going to be able to write that novel through all this tragedy. I couldn't. There wasn't any time. My dreams were once again put on hold, but I didn't care...well...I did. I just had to set my feelings about writing to the side. When I wasn't writing it was like not being able to breathe. The timing was so terrible...like someone's dying can ever be timed accordingly. Right? Don't get me wrong. I love my Papa and Pee-Paw. I wasn't ready to lose someone else. Not after my Papa died. Through my grief all I could think about was writing. Why at such a devastating time? The reasoning: I wanted to be taken from reality for awhile.

After my Pee-Paw passed I buried myself in my full-time job as an activity assistant in a local nursing home by day and eventually writing at night. There was something therapeutic about writing and it brought me back to my family. During this time there was a nagging in my gut and heart that told me I had to write. For awhile I resisted. That's where the 'eventually writing at night' comes in. If I didn't write, I would stop breathing. It was something I had to do. Pee-Paw and Papa wouldn't want me to be like this. They would be so utterly disappointed in me if I gave up on my dream.

I persisted. Thank God I did. Now I have 3 self-published books and am working on my 4th and 5th. The passion for writing was instilled in me by the people I love. I learned to believe in me. It's the only way to pursue the goals I set for myself. I didn't give up when I could have said, "Screw it. I'm done." But I didn't. I fought my way through the pain and overcame what could've brought me down forever.