For as long as I can remember books have been in my peripheral vision. In the house I grew up in, our stairs had built-in bookshelves. Every time I walked up to my bedroom I viewed classics and mysteries and probably some economics book my dad had read or maybe even written (he and I obviously write about extremely different topics).
My mom took my brother and I to the library on a weekly basis. I have no shame in admitting how excited I was when a new Babysitters Club book came out. Luckily for me, Ann M. Martin is a beast of a writer and basically published a book a week. I loved coming home and getting comfy on my bed with her new adventures.
As an adult I fell back in love with reading as a teacher. I loved the conversations I had with my students about the current book they were reading. The passion and excitement that a 4th grader can have when describing Harry Potter or Percy Jackson is contagious. Thus began my love affair with reading…again.
When pregnant with Owen I soaked up every book possible about pregnancy and early motherhood. Now I soak up books about God and marriage and hope and love (Disclaimer-I have decided that parenting books are a little too stressful right now and instead read more parenting blogs than anything).
But since I started this blog I also started one of my lifelong dreams: to be a real author. And for me, that means writing a book and having it published.
For the last year I have been writing pages of my book on and off. If you know any writers, I am learning that each of them have their own ideas about deadlines and goals. Some writers believe you should write when the mood strikes. Others believe you should write every day and give yourself deadlines. I am somewhere in the middle of those two philosophies which makes sense given my gray and sometimes indecisive personality.
Nonetheless, I am writing a book. I said it. That means it will be true right? This year I turn 30. Actually in less than 2 months I start my new decade. And my secret, now not so secret goal, is to have my book completed by my 31st birthday. That means I have 14 months to meet my goal.
I believe I can do it. But I wanted to put it out there so you can help remind me. But even more importantly so that I can remind myself. I love a good goal. And I love it even more when that goal is accomplished. So here’s to the next 14 months of writing: I hope and pray they are productive, healing, inspiring and purposeful. And most of all I am excited to tell you all about the journey and the book. Eventually. But for now, I need to write.