I feel like I’m on my final journey. This thing which I love to do has begun to consume me. As time swiftly flies beyond me – as my days grow shorter – as the need to make money is constantly on the brain – I come to the conclusion that I’m simply chasing the wind. Still I feel it’s something I must do.
I began writing stories when I was seven. It was one of those things that came from loving to read. The desire to weave intricate, beautiful words together and stitch them into my own stories carved out a life long passion.
When I became an “adult,” reality hit home. There were bills to pay, a family to raise, responsibilities. The crunch of life got in the way of those moments of quiet contemplation. No more the beatnik in black with a French beret, I was now a wife, a mother, the spitting image of my parents. It was time to suck it up and grow up.
Now I’m in the golden years. Who ever thought of that term anyway? There’s really nothing golden about them unless you’re independently wealthy or you’ve won the lottery. Somehow the golden years have turned to tarnished brass. We still have to make a living to survive. Before we die, we must figure out a way to live. The starving artist comes to mind.
Now, with limited strength and stamina, I can’t do many of the jobs I used to, so I’ve been afforded this time to do what I love. I’ve turned to poetry – something I never thought I could do. I’ve written several plays and adaptations. I even attempted a screen play, but it turned out to be more of a book than a movie. In between blogging I might produce short story to sell.
Now I’ve turned my attention to this novel idea. It took Margaret Mitchell 10 years to complete “Gone With the Wind.” It was the only book she ever wrote. She received the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1937 and she died at the age of 49. She wrote about what she knew and drew upon her own life in the South to tell this ageless story of perseverance and determination.
My book speaks to life in general. I’m more than 25 years older than Margaret at the time of her death, so that expanse has added to my storytelling.. It is from my heart and connected to my journey. It’s set in a different time and covers the life span of three women from different backgrounds. It’s about friendship, hardship, extreme tragedy, life, death, love, marriage and family. The connection these women forge as young girls, carries them through a variety of experiences, yet always brings them back together.
By now I’ve become well acquainted with my characters. I care about each one and the struggles they endure. I’ve found myself crying for them as I write. I laugh at a few things too. I hope those who read it will glean something from it.
Only 10,000 more words to go. I think I’ll dig out that French beret and wear it for inspiration.
Cheering for you Kathy!!! Persevere in Christ and finish the race that has been set out before us!
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Even though these bone are brittle and my breathing difficult, I still have work to do. Otherwise God would’ve taken me to heaven a while ago. So I’ll put my arch supports in my sneakers and do a Tim Conway run to the finish line.
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Dear Kathy, I pray God’s blessings for you as we run, endure, and finish this race together.:)
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Thanks for you encouragement ❤️🌷
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You go girl!!!!
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Thanks friend for much needed kick in the butt 🍮
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Simply a tad bit of encouragement 🥳
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Cheering you on from Texas! I can’t wait to see the final product published! 🙂
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Ooooh thank y’all for your encouragement. I can’t wait either❤️
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This feels like I used to when cheering my cross country running sons at their races! I used to tell them “You are almost there….the finish line is in sight! You can do it” And now I want to say those same words to you!! You Can Do It!!! Woo Hoo.
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Thanks for your confidence. I feel like the little engine that could. I think I can❤️
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What a beautiful post. I can’t wait to read your book someday!!
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Thanks for your kind comments 🌺
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Thank you for sharing about yourself and your writing.
Like you I often feel the emotions for my characters even if they are not real. They become real as I write.
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I’ve had this experience while writing plays. As a performer myself, I feel it’s so important to project believable characters. I usually had to wait to see the play get into the actor’s hands before they came to life. Writing a novel is allowing me more time to bring them to life on the page. I’m beginning to feel a bit schizophrenic. Thanks
For your kind words, it’s good to hear the from another writer.
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