Romance Writer's Weekly challenged a group of authors to respond to the following prompt:
Think back to that day when you first decided you were going to write a book. Tell us about what led you to start putting those first words on the page.
(And be sure to follow the blog hop...the link to A.S. Fenichel's blog is at the bottom)
Think back to that day when you first decided you were going to write a book. Tell us about what led you to start putting those first words on the page.
(And be sure to follow the blog hop...the link to A.S. Fenichel's blog is at the bottom)
I didn't start writing to fill time, because I was bored, or to scratch an itch. I'm a high school English teacher so fall is a super busy time for me. Just for kicks, I started writing in 2006 toward the end of August when I was home with my four and two year-old daughters, and newborn son. I honestly don't remember why I thought that was a good time, but I had words that needed to be written.
My nose was never buried in a book when I was little. I enjoyed reading, but I wasn't a bookworm. When I hit high school, socializing and boys were my priority, however I always had college in my sight. I contemplated going to culinary school, studying interior design, but always had an inkling toward teaching. Math was my best subject in school but I thought it would be boring to teach the same thing year after year.
So what does this have to do with my writing career? Not much. Nope. I didn't have author aspirations. Never crossed my mind. I didn't scribble in notebooks in school making up stories in my head. Not a one.
As an English/Education major in college, I had to read a lot. As in too much. It kind of turned me off. So when I graduated, I only read the novels I taught in school.
And then I had my first born. I was blessed with a sleeper. We bonded while I nursed, and my best friend started shlepping her romance novels on me. Nicholas Sparks, Nora Roberts, Sandra Brown. I was hooked. I became a reading junkie, hiding my books in couch cushions when my husband came home from work so he wouldn't see I'd started another book.
By the time my second daughter was born, I was reading 3-5 books a week. And teaching full-time. I'd read while nursing, while watching the girls play in the bathtub (I let them take hour-long baths). I had a book on the counter next to the stove while cooking dinner. I. Could. Not. Stop. Reading.
It was my escape. When I was pregnant with my son, the reading continued, but stories started forming in my head. I'd finish a book and make up stories for the minor characters. I'd change the endings. I'd imagine the hero and heroine's lives five years later.
My nose was never buried in a book when I was little. I enjoyed reading, but I wasn't a bookworm. When I hit high school, socializing and boys were my priority, however I always had college in my sight. I contemplated going to culinary school, studying interior design, but always had an inkling toward teaching. Math was my best subject in school but I thought it would be boring to teach the same thing year after year.
So what does this have to do with my writing career? Not much. Nope. I didn't have author aspirations. Never crossed my mind. I didn't scribble in notebooks in school making up stories in my head. Not a one.
As an English/Education major in college, I had to read a lot. As in too much. It kind of turned me off. So when I graduated, I only read the novels I taught in school.
And then I had my first born. I was blessed with a sleeper. We bonded while I nursed, and my best friend started shlepping her romance novels on me. Nicholas Sparks, Nora Roberts, Sandra Brown. I was hooked. I became a reading junkie, hiding my books in couch cushions when my husband came home from work so he wouldn't see I'd started another book.
By the time my second daughter was born, I was reading 3-5 books a week. And teaching full-time. I'd read while nursing, while watching the girls play in the bathtub (I let them take hour-long baths). I had a book on the counter next to the stove while cooking dinner. I. Could. Not. Stop. Reading.
It was my escape. When I was pregnant with my son, the reading continued, but stories started forming in my head. I'd finish a book and make up stories for the minor characters. I'd change the endings. I'd imagine the hero and heroine's lives five years later.
And then I thought of my own characters. My own story. And I wrote it. It took me two years to write the 110,000 word story...that I thought was the best thing ever. I mean, the heroine was a sweet as strawberry shortcake and the hero was the perfect man. How the heck I wrote over a hundred thousand words of perfectness, I do not know. Needless to say, that book never saw the light of day.
But the writing itch formed, growing bigger and bigger with each story I wrote. Soon I joined the Maine Romance Writers, started attending workshops and conferences, learned how to actually write, and then the next book came.
Having three young children, I didn't (don't) have a lot of writing time. I made it my goal to write one book a year--mostly during the summer--and edit it during the school year, while concocting my next book idea.
That path worked for me for a while until I got my first publishing contract in the fall of 2014. Then the writing mojo REALLY hit. I'm now able to write three books a year, but my reading has fallen by the wayside. I'm lucky if I read a couple books a month, but that's okay. I have a writing career, a teaching career, and three active children.
I'm happy. :-)
But the writing itch formed, growing bigger and bigger with each story I wrote. Soon I joined the Maine Romance Writers, started attending workshops and conferences, learned how to actually write, and then the next book came.
Having three young children, I didn't (don't) have a lot of writing time. I made it my goal to write one book a year--mostly during the summer--and edit it during the school year, while concocting my next book idea.
That path worked for me for a while until I got my first publishing contract in the fall of 2014. Then the writing mojo REALLY hit. I'm now able to write three books a year, but my reading has fallen by the wayside. I'm lucky if I read a couple books a month, but that's okay. I have a writing career, a teaching career, and three active children.
I'm happy. :-)
Want to read more stories on how the words came alive? Hop on over to A.S. Fenichel's blog to read about her first words: http://asfenichel.com/blog
Here's a snippet from my first published book, False Start, which was released six years after writing it.
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