Something happened when I turned 40. Well, other than my husband crowing that I was finally the same age as him. For the record, we were born in different calendar years, so that makes him 1 year older than me. Give or take a few months. Outside of the yearly birthday battle with my spouse, I realized that I am a stay at home mom. Well, I always knew that’s what I was, the problem was that’s all I felt I was. I stood in the middle of my kitchen having a-well, midlife crisis. When these kids move out, who am I? When my youngest heads off to school, where does that leave me? So, I decided to do something I have been putting off for years. Write and attempt to get that first novel published. Other than a couple of short articles published, I had not written a single (fictional) word in almost 15 years!
Definitely not where I had pictured myself at this age. I had finished my first novel at 11, the next at 13, and another at 18 with lots of short stories and poems filling binders in between. Something that I had loved to do had fallen to the wayside. So, I looked at my family and told them I had 4 years (until the youngest is in school full time) to make my dreams happen.
So, please join me as I wade my way back into fiction writing while raising my four babies and making sure my husband continues to think it’s “rainbows and unicorn rides” while he is at work.