As a child, I was the runt of the litter. The tiniest and most tenacious child because I had to fight for everything I got. Being born into a very loud and opinionated family, where you had to raise your voice to heard over the din, was good life training for me.
Though small, I decided that I wanted to play volleyball. A tough sport to be in when you aren't a setter, which I wasn't. I had a coach once told me why I made the cut, even though better players didn't make the team. She said, "You go all in. No ball goes to the floor without you tearing after it. Even if you ended up pancaked on the floor, you reach for it."
But after a few years of constantly feeling like I was playing out of my league, I decided to downgrade volleyball from my sport to enjoyment.
The program was intense, six days a week, for six weeks, eight hours a day. In the classes, I was the only person who had never been cast in a production. I had only ever done scene work in classes. I felt awkward, but I loved it. The very next audition after the acting boot camp, I got cast. I didn't care that the role only had three lines. I had finally made it onto a cast of a show.
Emboldened after that show closed, I kept auditioning and once again, I hit a wall where everyone seemed to love working with me and yet I only received roles with minuscule stage time and few lines.
Fear not though, I found a new love, directing. Oh, man-o-man, did I shine there. I directed two main stage productions for my favorite alma mater and both shows were nominated (and won a few) statewide awards. Time and life come between me and the theater and we lost touch. Then came writing.
I had always been drawn to stories and words, the use, the meanings, and especially their histories captivated me. And drawing from my love of directing and character acting, I felt completed to write novels. The writing wasn't too bad. It's actually getting the thing published and shaping the story that gave me heartburn.
But as with each new love I've had thus far in life, it's time to dig deep and recommit to getting my work out there. Perseverance is the key. This is where being a bulldog on a bone is critical because I held the vision of having this book out in print. My inner conviction that this book is worth is my compass and my flame that burns away the fears and doubts. My inner voice overrode my outer voices.
Because this baby will be published.
Chewing on a nice meaty bone of my dreams,