I have been writing since I learned to hold a pencil,
in diaries, on walls, on sidewalks with chalk, in school.

I think everyone is a writer. It is just that some people write and some people proclaim to WRITE.

This week I am planning to become completely immersed in what it means to really WRITE.

I have written books, little poem-like creations, about the state of Alabama and it’s unique places, about Angels, before
I realized exactly WHAT angels were and how I had gotten that one all wrong, although the illustrations Donna Jones created were absolutely phenomenal. Published those myself as a full fledged publishing company, complete with warehousing, distribution, order taking. I was it all. That was before POD. Those books followed me around LONG after I changed my name.

I have written for hire, wrote the history of Birmingham Alabama in 2400 words or less, a feat that without the theme of “everyone has a vision” would never have been possible. That book was a masterpiece (not necessarily the writing but the entire layout and design, big thick paper, a collection of artwork by the areas finest.) And it is now out of print because the publisher “moved on” to another project. A hard back full color expensive project, ditched because the promoter had other things to do.

And so it goes in the publishing industry. You try about 3 months for your 15 minutes of thrust for the book of a lifetime.
They wouldn’t even give it 30 days, although the 50 artists and I vowed to promote it anyway.

The most recent book, a Christmas book, inspired after Rick and Bubba debated the loss of Christ in our Christmases. I illustrated it, magic marker and typing paper. I used it to test the POD theory, wondering, does this really work? And was pretty pleased with the response.

And I found that either way you publish, whether on your own, with a publishing house out of your control, YOU are the one who has to take this thing to where it goes.

So now, again, I am in new territory. I am embarking into the realm of fiction writing. I am traveling by ferry, leaving my husband and children behind for four days to immerse myself in the craft of fiction writing. Four of us will live on an island with three published writers (one who wrote “Riding in Cars with Boys” which became a movie) then I will be a student to all of the artists at the Savannah Book Festival. I think we even will be reading from our week-long projects.

A bit intimidating for most but I think I was made that personality who, even when I “post responses on Ashton Kutcher’s wall” not really taking into consideration I am one of millions of his friends, says, hey, why not me?

And so I go there, with my manuscript that was submitted months ago, after being accepted,that has been groomed but not completed. And I think, why can’t my Cay be on the big screen one day? Why can’t she, as a singer, win a grammy for the songs I write on the pages of this book, even when I have never been able to get my own songs completed?

Hey isn’t that what we see in Justin Beiber? Why can’t WE ALL DREAM?

So, this week, those are the questions.

And hopefully, that little seed planted in my mind, as a 9 year old sitting in the back of my dad’s English college classes, who circled all of the pronouns in his old English books just for fun, who has written every day of her life in diaries and notebooks, can pull together a novel that comes to life.

All things in life start as ideas, whether it is what you are eating for dinner or what you will wear tonight. Some ideas for people are just that, just as some writers just write. But then again….some of those who write are WRITERS.

That is what I have decided, at 45, I really want to be.