My Awkward First Time (Blogging that Is)...

Okay so I've been blogless until now, and it was highly recommended I change that.  So, here I am.  Up until now, I have resisted joining the blogging world until now for two very big reasons:

1. Although I love to write, I am deathly afraid of the idea of having to come up with something interesting to write several times a week.
2. I'm pretty sure the only follower I'm going to get is my mom...and I'm not entirely sure she'll even read it.

 I still fear those things, but I'm plunging ahead anyways.

My story begins many many years ago. ( I'm not saying how many!)  The first book I remember falling in love with was a Ding Dong School Book by Miss Frances called I Decided.

I made my parents read and re-read this book so many times.  It's about a little girl out shopping with her mom who allows her to choose something for herself as a reward for being so good.  After three different choices (and a lot of thinking), the little girl decides that what she wants most of all is a book.

I could relate.  I was the child who asked for books for birthdays and Christmases.  I was the girl who loved going to the library.  Even as a teenager, my nose was always buried in a book.

I read my way through Ramona Quimby, the Little House books, Anne of Greene Gables, The Babysitter's Club, the Sunfire Romances, Sweet Valley High, and more.  When I was 12, I discovered the Diary of Anne Frank and longed for more than just the latest happenings in Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield's world. So, I started sneaking my mom's romances.

16 year old me reading Sidney Sheldon

It was during those years I read A Knight In Shining Armour by Jude Deveraux.   I couldn't get enough of time-travel or paranormal romance.

Writing was just a natural extension of my love for reading.   My childhood is riddled with journals, notebooks full of poetry, and many many pitiful attempts at writing a novel.  I knew without a doubt that all I wanted to be when I grew up was a writer.

Then I grew up.  I met my husband.  I had two daughters.  And somewhere between the bills and the diapers, my dream disappeared.   But not the stories. Not the voices.  They arrived in whispers in the quiet moments just before I fell asleep at night, in the tune of a random song on the radio, and in the wind as it whipped across my skin whenever a storm blew in.  They were there just waiting for me to reach out. And sometimes I did.  I read writing books.  I made several false starts.  I even took a writing class.   But nothing ever came from it.

Then three years ago I found myself at a crossroads.  Out of the blue, I recalled that first childhood book I had loved and I felt like that little girl again.  I needed to make a decision.  So I did.

I decided.  I decided to go for it.  I decided to make the time.  I gave up the tv programs, the facebook games, and nights out with friends.  I read dozens of books on the craft.  I wrote.  I researched.  I wrote.  I googled everything.  I wrote.  I stalked author blogs, agent blogs, etc.  I wrote.   I lurked on all the writing forums.  I wrote.

After three manuscripts (two were buried very very deep), four months of revisions, and countless hours of studying up on agents, I am nearing the querying (and rejection) phase.  And I'm scared out of my mind.  In my everyday world, my friends are wrapped up in their love lives, having babies, or their latest diet.  The writing world is a foreign and uninteresting concept to them.  So this is me, jumping in, hoping to reach out and find others who understand.

So Hello Blogosphere!   I am happy to be here.

P.S.  This first post is wordy and probably sucks.  I apologize.  Like a first draft, it can only get better from here :)