Good morning, Lovelies, or afternoon/evening, whenever you find it fit to crawl out of bed on a Saturday.
Doing a little bit of a mental getaway in the town of Roswell, GA, while the husband is doing a bit of clinic work for his job. Offered for me to keep the car, to go out and about, but I told him no, I would rather stay in the hotel and get some much needed writing done today. Was scrolling a forum and found this quote, which struck a memory in me, when I had my calling to not only be a reader but to be a writer as well. I remember the year, perhaps the day itself, when I realized that I felt a connection to someone more strongly than I had had before (someone who wasn’t a relative or a childhood friend) and they were, in fact, an author. I had not actually met them, but I didn’t need to because I had read their book, something just as good if not better.
It was a very good YA novel, its characters strong and unforgettable, and its story left me wanting for much more than a sequel. It made me feel so accomplished to have read a book over three hundred pages, not only to have read something that long but to love it and want more. It was exhilarating and it made me want to read more. Not long after, I wanted to WRITE something JUST like that.
Now, I don’t. I want to write my OWN book. Something that cannot be compared to another writer, not exclusively, but something that people will see and know it’s mine. That may be going a bit too deep for someone who only has had three self-published works, but it’s a goal, a journey for me as a writer, one that I believe many share along with me.
Writing is definitely my calling. No, I am not luxuriating in the riches that more famous writers seem to flaunt (*cough*NicholasSparks*cough*) however that is not what we are called to do. We are called to write the voices in our heads, to give them names and purposes, realistic tendencies of why our readers should love them or hate them, and of places that only exist to us but must be shared.
So for today, it is me and my calling, me and my words. I only hope that someday, you may all read them as a book in your hands, bestseller-list-making or not.
The World of Abigail Rose 