Right writing, Am I an Author Yet?

   Exactly one year ago I retired from teaching with aspirations of becoming a published author. I really had no idea of what I was getting myself into. I was sure that I was going to write the most thought provoking, meaningful devotional book on the market today.
   Well, like any person that starts an adventure without a map or a plan, I've hit a few curbs. I had no idea that English was not my first language and when  my editor friends sent most of my work to "sleep with the fishes", I had to remember the words of  Vito Corleone-" Its not personal its business."
     Assembling all those inspirational thoughts to make sense was like putting a blank puzzle together and you decide what the picture will look like. I usually get my inspiration at the most inconvenient times too. I'm either driving down the road, or its three in the morning when I'm staggering back from the bathroom or my favorite time is when I'm in the shower.
   These thoughts are all written out on things like old napkins, used envelopes, my bathroom mirror or tiny pieces of torn paper.
   I wasn't prepared for all the questions people ask either. What's your platform? Have you written a synopsis? Have you put together a manuscript? What about a writers page? Who's your editor? Do you have an agent? When will your book be published? To all these questions there is a long pause as I figure it all out in my head, my usual answer is "um."
   My routine is in need of a little tweaking too. I usually sit, blank faced in front of the computer and pray for something to flow from my brain to my fingers. After about ten minutes Facebook, Pintrest or Travelocity get the best of me and I am completely sidetracked.
  Writing is not as glamorous or as easy as I thought it would be but I do love it and look forward to the day I see my book on the bookshelf at the local library.


This is my chosen official Author picture, don' I look official?     This is how the process really looks.

Monday morning stroll

    I had to drop my car off at the mechanics recently and I decided to walk the mile and a half home. As I was getting in my car, I noticed my walking pole hanging on the wall. My sole motivation when I bought the poles was the ad said they would burn twenty percent more calories than walking without them, to me that was a no-brainer.
   I hesitated throwing the poles in my car because I just feel so silly when I use them. I imagine people pointing and saying, "poor mixed up lady lost her skis." To make things worse, I attached a small boat air horn to one of the poles in case I might encounter someone's rabid dog, or a cougar, or maybe I'll get lost and have to signal someone as to my where abouts. (yes, my mind really does think this way)
   I hopped in my car and headed down the road. I noticed my car thermometer said it was thirty-two degrees outside and I began regretting my decision to walk home. When I pulled into the mechanics parking lot I gave myself a little pep talk, put on my gloves, zipped up my coat, pulled out the poles and began the journey home.
  Within the first block I encountered a large group of curious onlookers. There where about ten people waiting for the city bus and they all watched me, eyes wide in wonder, as I walked past clikkity clacking, poles in hand. I simply looked straight ahead hoping my frozen ears would not break off my head before I got home.
   A little further down the road I walked past at an elderly man who asked if it was cold enough to ski. I knew it! I look like that crazy lady after all!
   Feeling totally embarrassed I put my head down and picked up my pace. I decided to cut through the park and was clipping right along when I stepped on the little wooden bridge that was covered in ice.
   Once my feet hit that ice I was sucking air and skiing like no bodies business. I know it was only about eight feet but, I could have gone for the gold. I was never so glad to have those walking poles in my life. When it was all over, I quickly looked around to see if any one noticed. I was proud and embarrassed all at the same time. I finished my walk home a bit shaken, ears still attached and proudly sporting my bright red walking poles.