Becoming a Writer

Finally, I'm starting to refer to myself as a writer, to think of myself as an author. It's hard for someone who has spent forty-five years developing a totally different career to adopt a new label. I didn't start writing, in earnest, until the age of sixty. I will always be passionate about children, education and music, but now I look forward to a rewarding retirement activity: writing novels.

Reflecting on the process of writing my first novella, Diary in the Attic, I realize I brought it to a conclusion too quickly. As a novice, I was so excited to find I could actually write anything—that I could put words together to express ideas, that I could invent characters, give them names and bring them to life, that I could devise a plot—I failed to adequately develop all of those components.

Once I saw the book in print, it became painfully obvious that I needed a good editor. The grammar, spelling, syntax and other basic elements were fine. At least I didn't sound like a total idiot. I still like the murder-mystery plot and I like the characters. But as I read the finished product, I realized it could have included more detail, more dialog and further plot development before rushing to the last chapter.

Okay, lesson learned and on to my second novel, Unrevealed. I knew I had a story to tell, one that was worth telling. This time, I would take my time, focus on the details, develop believable characters and work to fully engage the reader. I took care to make the dialog authentically reflect each character's personality. I put in the necessary hours to research, edit, re-edit, and brutally cut superfluous passages. Finally, I worked with a good editor. The result is a work of literature about which I feel proud, despite a couple of typos. I think the reader will be captured early and compelled to continue reading. If you have read Unrevealed, I would appreciate your feedback. Just remember to be kind, please. This writer still has a lot to learn.