NO ONE SAID THIS PUBLISHING JOURNEY WOULD BE EASY.

We can read just about everyone’s publishing story and find the common denominator: It takes a lot of work to become a published author.

My story is the same, yet different. Yes, it has taken years of pushing through some serious distractions to stay in the writer’s life. I was once a very hands-on mother to two daughters. As they grew, and I continued to work at home to become a writer, I worked alongside them at the kitchen table.

We studied together and formed a bond. As their mother, I felt it was vital that they see me working on my dream. I feel certain this has helped them find the passion for their own dreams. They do not share the same dreams I have but have dreams of their own. Grasping this was, and is, important to us all as I learned how to give them room to explore.

THE WRITER IN ME NEVER WANTED TO GIVE UP.

She was determined to find a way to “succeed” and prove to my loved ones that I was a serious writer with serious goals. For me to be taken seriously, first I had to begin to take myself seriously. This was hard to do. I kept waiting for others to perceive me as serious, but without me first instigating this seriousness, the seriousness, well, it fell on deaf ears. Maintaining seriousness became important. After all, I was out to prove myself.

Can you guess what happened after I began to take myself seriously? And find all the ways I could to prove it? I forgot to play. It was a terrible time. I was so hellbent on succeeding that I forgot to play. The push forward took me away from an important part of myself and I forgot to rummage around in my creative filing cabinet and try new things, explore, and learn. I succeeded in only exhausting myself in the push.

THIS IS WHERE I AM NOW.

On the open road to nowhere. To everywhere. To somewhere. Honestly, I don’t know. I managed to get some of my earlier work published. My first goal. Yay! I reached a mile marker I was determined to get to, but now that I am here I see the road in front of me, and boy, it is wide. It is long. It doesn’t end. Now, what is a writer to do?

Do I tick off the mile markers as I go along on this writer's journey one after the other, or do I ignore the mile markers and look out across the vast expansiveness and forget the road? Forget that I am tired? Forget the plans? The road map?

There are too many stops along the way that look promising. I may be at the beginning of my writer’s journey but I know, having achieved this first publishing marker, that it does not mean I should put my head down and keep driving.

I think I’ll get off the road, park the next writing project in the parking lot, sit back, and look around awhile. There might be a much different highway calling. It might not be the one I am on. I need time to rummage through the weeds a bit and see what lies hidden.

This is the kind of writer I am becoming.