Dreams Do Come True
Hosting a mini writer’s retreat can bring to the surface dreams of the past. This retreat was small–me and another writer/editor Jennifer Vander Klipp at my house. We were comparing when we knew we wanted to write and I remembered I had two of my first books hidden away.
Check out that amazing binding I used. Reading through them would give any editor a headache because there is so much repetition and the grammar-oh my!
If You Wish Upon a Star was about bumping into a movie star and having him over for dinner. I was dreaming big time.
Tragedy Strikes is equally painful in the unfolding of love and death.
I’m not sure why I saved these but I’m glad that I did. I can see how my younger self truly wanted to write books, not just short stories–evident because they’re more than two pages long and bound.
After these two came many more written pages, then typed on a Royal typewriter my mother found somewhere, but I no longer have the stories or the typewriter.
Along the way, I learned how to use punctuation, how to write dialogue, and pull readers into the story. I’m still learning something new as writing for publication often changes.
Looking back, I had a dream. I didn’t know then how it would be realized, that I would be blessed with contracts with traditional publishers, that I’d get to hold a book not bound with rickrack in my hand.
I have to thank you–my readers, for helping me achieve this dream. You’ve been a big part of this journey. I write and you pick up the stories and leave reviews. Thank you!
If you have a little one writing please save their work for them so they too can look back and see how far they have come some day.
There’s no possible in dreaming big,it’s one of our right. Now it’s our turn to make this dream come true,time to take some action!
What a cool story! I wish I had the first things I wrote so very long ago. I wrote a lot of poetry. In fact, I do have a three-ring binder of poems I’ve written through the years. No one ever sees those. 😉 Many were written during my depression years. It was therapy.
Ah, the poetry book. I have one of those too. Mine is filled with sad, break your heart, teenage angst. No one will see those either. 🙂