(Breathe in, breathe out.)
I have always considered myself a writer. I love to write. As I child I preferred writing to reading which seemed backwards to me. I kept journals growing up, filled with my secrets and hopes and dreams. I wrote stories and poems. Writing was always an outlet. When something was wrong or if I needed to get my point across or express my feelings to someone, I found that writing things down always helped. It continues to be my go-to therapy, even to this day.
Somewhere along the way though, I stopped writing for enjoyment. There was so much writing involved in school with term papers and essays that it started to become drudgery. And so I stopped writing for many years.
Then one day, I heard about this thing called 'blogging' and everyone was doing it. It required writing and deep inside of me a little sleeping monster awoke. I started writing about my family and my thoughts on day to day life, and I threw it out there, into the universe for the world to read. Sometimes I would write about current events or politics. I loved my little blog. And along the way some other people did too. People began commenting that I should write a book. Over and over. I kept hearing it.
What they didn't know was that I had already tried. I started. I stopped. I restarted. I deleted. Over the years, I had tried repeatedly to get something going in the way of a novel. Nothing ever materialized. It was okay though, because I already had a full-time job. I was a mom.
The next thing I knew, my baby headed off to kindergarten. And suddenly, I could not longer claim that I was a full-time mom anymore.
It was time to do something.
So I did the one thing I've always wanted to do.
I wrote a book.
I hope you like it. It's not really my story. It's Brooke's story. And I think it was one that was worth telling. And I hope you think it is one that is worth reading.
Thanks for stopping in...