So, I'm writing this novel...

Ah, the unfinished novel tucked in a side drawer.  I have one of those... but it's tucked away on my hard drive collecting digital dust.  It's really something I started as a form of therapy (like this blog) but the hustle and bustle of life seemed like enough of an excuse to go on hiatis.  Now it's time to pick it back up.  I sat down to read through the 110-or-so pages last week and I felt overwhelmed.  That familiar feeling of self doubt washed over me.  But, who cares if I'm not the world's greatest novelist?  Who cares of the only person reading is me?  At least chipping away at a few days a week will give me a much-needed creative outlet and some sort of catharsis. That's worth the long hours spent squinting at the computer screen in a dark room while my kids and husband are sleeping soundly. 

Stephanie Meyer started much the same way, right?  She's secretely a hero of mine: a mother of three and self-made novelist/millionaire. Way to go!  All you need is an idea.  Maybe this story of teenage angst set in 1990s America is my ticket?  Time will tell, but I'm not writing in hope of fortune or fame. I'm just writng to fulfill that need to be heard, to express the emotions tucked away inside through a compelling story and dynamic characters.  It's a story that's close to me--autobiographical of sorts, a natural first attempt at a novel--and I want/need to get it off my chest.  Of course, the names and facts will change to protect the innocent... haha.

Here's my plan: write for one hour three times a week.  That's it.  I'll start small and see how it goes and I'll check in on the blog to keep me honest. Better start writing!