Maybe It's Not Meant To Be

 

My desire to be a published author has been part of me since I was little.  Even before I knew how to write.  I would fill notebooks up with pictures that told the story.  As I got older I would add sentences to those pictures, then full paragraphs.  Eventually the notebooks would fill with words and no more pictures, which is good because I'm not an artist at all.  Writing was a way to escape from reality.  It was therapeutic.  My favorite part of school was when we got to write short stories.  The teachers loved my work.  My father bought me a typewriter and I would type away creating one short story after another.  In high school my dad purchased our first computer and my free time was spent in WordPerfect.  In my junior and senior years I was part of the school's literary magazine club.  My senior year I was on the school newspaper.  I started attending a community college where I was studying to become a journalist but quickly realized that wasn't a career I wanted.  My writing has always been personal.  I also don't like working with deadlines.  If I was going to use writing as a career it would be on my terms, not someone else's.  So, I changed colleges and a career path.  I continued to write stories on my own.  All of those stories were kept hidden away.  I didn't even attempt anything worth sending off for publication.  It was all fun, and like I said before, therapy.  

In 2020 when we were forced to spend our days at home a book idea came to mind.  It was a great time to sit and write while my kids worked on their school work.  I kept going until a first draft was completed.  Then, I lost the USB drive.  I then began coming up with another idea but before I finished the first chapter I found the drive.  I was no longer interested in the story I had written and started a slightly new idea.  In between housework and all the mother stuff I tried to write but found very little time to devote to it.  Now, here we are in 2023 and the idea has remained in my head and not on the computer.  Recently, I started typing away and had an amazing story going.  I'm telling you, the best I had written ever.  This was the one!  The one I would finish and publish.  

Then, I lost the USB drive ... AGAIN!  I looked everywhere.  My husband looked.  I think I left it on the coffee table and my husband thinks the dog swallowed it.  I'm not sure if that's true but I can't find it anywhere.  It's been a very frustrating experience trying to get a book complete.   Maybe it really isn't meant to be.  I just can't win!