Am I still writing?: A question from my husband

My husband asked me recently if I was still writing. The first thought was, why was he asking? But it was the right time for him to ask.

Due to a new project, I was working it consumed me for at least a month. By the time I stopped working on it, my hands, elbows, arms, and shoulders were hurting, and to do any writing was not happening.

I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I picked up a WIP to work on. That did sadden me, for as I wrote in my last posting, I get an inner joy that I have problems explaining to someone who isn’t a writer.

I have three WIPs that are in various stages of being finished. I have notes to write volume five of my Jasper, Amazon parrot series with to the third volume of my Squirrel Mafia series.

I intend on pulling them out, deciding which one to work on, and place it on my desk so it can stare at me daily.

It didn’t help that when I asked hubby why he asked, he wanted to be sure I hadn’t put it by the waste side.

Life happens. Time flies so fast, especially as we grow older, that if he hadn’t brought it up, I wonder how long before I would have done so.

Sometimes, a gentle push is what we need to start on a project. Sometimes it is a kick in the butt as a reminder we need to move forward, regardless of how small, on something that makes us happy. For me, one of those things is writing.

Why do you write as an author?

Why do you write?

When I started, I was told by others they had been writing for years, some as early as their teens. I didn’t start until my early 40s.

Why did I start? My husband told a good friend of ours that he felt I wrote well. She told me. I mean, what better way to tell your wife than to a friend, right? I mulled that over, wondering if I had anything in me to write a book of any length.

I had two surgeries within six weeks of each other and was going to be stuck recovering more or less. So, I took on the task of writing something, anything that would work. I had heard for a while that you write on what you know.

So, what did I know? What could I possibly know that I could translate into a book? I literally looked around my house to see if there was something I knew that I could turn into a book.

My eyes landed on our rescued Amazon parrot, Jasper. He looked at me, and that was all it took. At that point, he had been with us for ten years.

From that, four books written. Three are published, one is in a queue from my publisher. It has been a joy to write.

Writing is freedom for me. Anything can be going around me, but if I am locked in a scene or plot, you really have to shout if you want my attention.

Why I write is hard to explain, I feel, to people who don’t write, but fellow writers get me. They understand being lost in the words and pages that they are creating. It is a joy that is priceless and a joy that I didn’t know I needed until I started doing it.

I know I am not explaining it well. Maybe, perhaps, if you write a short story and the words fill up page after page, the utter joy that I feel might be found by you.

I have submitted two more books for publications: Why I write

I submitted the fourth volume of my Jasper, Amazon Parrot series to my publishers. I would not fathom saying this statement post-2010. The title is Jasper, Amazon Parrot: The Jungle Rescue.

Happily, my publisher accepted it. I also submitted my second volume to my Squirrel Mafia series. I will have seven books written when they are both published.

I have a few minutes to breathe before both publishers come back to me with final edits, cover design, and launch.

Do I make Stephen King or James Patterson money? Not by a long shot. But writing something that people will buy and enjoy is a thrill and empowerment that would not find any other way.

My latest review on Amazon came from a mother who wrote what her child said to her after they read volume one of my Jasper, Amazon parrot series.

My kid: it made me feel happy, calm, and emotional in some parts. 📗🦜🦜

I enjoy reading this book to my kid.

A grandfather bought volume one for his grandson for Christmas one year. The young child was playing an electronic game on the couch when he received the gift. He put down the game and started to read. He continued to the end of the book. He asked his grandfather where the second volume was.

I want children to read more and learn about this area in our world, the Amazon rainforest. Down the road, these children could be warriors for it.

So, no, I don’t make Stephen King or James Patterson money, but what I do make is a joy inside that I would not get if I didn’t write.

The Musings of A New Englander