Find all the links below if you want to read my YA Fantasy novel- Justyce Scales of the Otherly and Obscura.
But for now, a short tale.
Do you know the saying ‘wearing many hats?’ I think becoming an author probably required the most amount of hat-wearing.
You see, I’ve been many things in my life, even personalities, as my friend circles, interests, and vocabulary have changed. Nearly all of it has put me in line to become who I am today. A writer.
I’m a mother, wife, full-time food bank worker, and a newly published author. But let’s start at the beginning. At nine years old, my son told me I should write a book. He’s 20 now.
You see, that’s how long a seed idea can take to grow into a magnificent tree of possibilities.
But my writing started long before that. I always had the drive to write. Before I consciously decided to do so, I wrote short stories and poetry. To put words on paper has always been my calling. I was once told that you know at a young age what you’re meant to be. Or maybe I read that in a book, but it rings true.
Growing up in the prairies, my school was K to 9. I remember the first time I was asked to stand up and read a poem (probably in grade 3 or 4) at an assembly in front of the whole school.
Maybe that’s where my social anxiety stemmed from.
I was also accused of plagiarism for poetry in grade school; I suppose I was too good for a prepuberty adolescent?
My parents put me into a creative writing class by grade 5 that I attended after school. I recall reading them my short stories over a Sunday dinner.
I even remember the plot of those stories, here’s one;
She woke to a smoke filled room. Crawling along the floor to navigate her way to an escape, she knew in her heart, she would be unable to save anyone in the burning house. (This is guessing as I don’t have these stories typed any longer, they live only in my head.)
I was dark at a young age with my writing, through poetry my parents would get calls from the school with concerns about my depression. There might have been some sadness in me, who doesn’t have sadness, (where’s my Inside Out friends at!) but not really, I just found words that pulled a lot more emotion than happy pink trees. Who doesn’t feel a twinge of something from;
I lie demise-like, concealed by this pink tree that defends me from the eclipse you generate with your putrefied hatred. The pink leaves of affection fall from your corruption. (This is near exact wording from My Pink Tree written in grade 6)
Although I’m sure my writing skill has come a long way, or at least I hope it has.
You see, my writing didn’t carry through my life because this is about the time I began wearing my first ‘life’ hat.
I became a mother at the young age of 17, and babies have a funny way of taking all your attention.
Know what takes even more from you?
I wore my addict hat for many years, and even when I kicked the hard drugs, this addiction trailed along with alcohol, marijuana, candy, and sex. They’re all vices that steal a piece of your soul each time you divulge. Addiction demands all your attention and care from everything else in the world, even if you don’t want it to. So this addict hat was more like a straight jacket that I have successfully torn off my chained soul, and I thrive, sober, happy and a closet freed of all skeletons.
Healthcare worker hat.
This was an emotional vampire, one I had to cut loose end of 2021. Blame the pandemic, or the bullies but that is all I will say on that.
Hat of a wife.
There is no more fantastic task, no more enormous accomplishment than to continue and work on a marriage every day of your life. Children are easy compared to a wedding. I have been married for 11 years in two weeks. Many couples say they’ve had their ups and downs. I believe I’ve had my every direction run with my husband. I love him and want many more years, and although slightly forced, he’s been supportive of my reclusive writing days.
Second hardest next to being a wife. My biological children are automatic love. You can’t change love when you don’t get to choose it to begin with. Even when the love causes your heart to hurt if they don’t come home on time or respond when called. Step-children are the next level hard. They are someone else’s babies you must choose to love and cherish and put above any inclination you might have to do other because those children are your second children, but they have to be treated just as well as your first children.
A surprise hat that I didn’t think I’d be trying on at the age of 33, but I did, and I gotta say, I rock it! What people boast about being a grandparent is so stupid true. Play with the baby, snuggle the baby, spoil the baby, feed the baby candy, and give the baby back! It’s such a perfect reward for the years of being a mother that was difficult, draining and dire. Being a grandmother makes it all worthwhile, so when people ask if I would be a parent all over again after being peed on, puked on, and punked by, I would always say yes, because unless you have babies, you cannot bask in the wonder that is your baby’s babies.
It took all those hurdles, and I’m sure many more in my future, to come to this hat, but I wear it with pride.
Pride that I overcame so many demons in my life to be able and sit back and write about monsters.
Although I’m still scared of the dark.
So you see, I was born with creativity and stories packed so tightly in my head that it took my whole life’s adventures to unwind those tales.
I imagine things will only look up from here.
Click on your preferred bookish method below to order my novel, Justyce Scales of the Otherly and Obscura (the story follows Luci in an alternate universe where she’s trying to rescue her mom and escape the darkness of Obscura. It’s kind of like Alice in Wonderland mashed with Strangers Things) and stay tuned for more exciting news as I start to plan my book tour.