I'm sitting here thinking that it's kind of crazy the way things
happen sometimes.
I used to write for
fun—as a hobby—a way to release things I wanted to
say but never did (usually poetry or songs). It started in high school when I
had one of those moments where I said and did something that I knew I would
regret later. You know those moments, right? The ones where you walk away, and
then replay it later in your head while you scream into your pillow. The moment
when the lightbulb goes off, and all of things you should of said or done flash
like a neon sign. Yeah, except you didn't say it, or do it like that. That's
where it began. I was the girl that never said or did anything right the first
time. I was the girl that opened her mouth and got into trouble. I was a girl
with a hard shell, but a sad interior—fragile yet strong. So, I wrote it down. The things I wished I
said. The emotion behind why I couldn't. In my writing, I released my regret,
escaped the fear of failure and spoke the truth.
It was around this time last year when some things started
spiraling out of control. That same fear came. That same dark feeling that this
could and might go really, really wrong. Something happened, something personal
that I won't share. I don't handle lack of control well. I don't handle
insecurity well. I needed that same escape again in my life. So, I wrote it
down, this time it was a story. Not a real story, but a story to help me not
focus on the real one I was feeling lost in. In the middle of that story, another
one came. That is the one that helped me the most. That is the one that let me
tap into the girl I was when it all began—back in high school.
I wrote Escape the Doubt (yes, that title is special) for me
originally. I pulled out my old poetry/songs and I gave it to my characters. I
let it be hers, even his. I didn't expect the story to be embraced with love
the way it has been. It was only when the four and five star reviews started
being posted that I had faith in my decision to hit publish. I still have to
remind myself to believe enough in my words—in myself. One review helped me more than others, the first with
criticism—the one
that opened my eyes to cleaning up my craft, which I have.
Now, here I am—writing my third novel (technically fourth) and paying attention
to every detail (edits, formatting, flow). I realized my escape was writing it,
but someone else's escape may be reading it. I want it to be the best escape it
can be.
So, here's to those unexpected (scary as hell) moments that
become beautiful, equally unexpected (scary as hell) moments. Sometimes life
catapults us into the unknown, into something we didn't even know we wanted, or
had been missing. Now, in this destination—wearing this hat as an author—I am so thankful for the past journey.
-Off to my escape now. ;) Love you all!
