Finding My Way

 by Margie Senechal

Last week Nathan Bransford posted a link in his Friday wrap-up about authors who had their debut book published after 60. And wow, did that hit me like a brick. I turned 60 in January and still am not a published novelist. My poor children grew up with dreams of grandeur with “When Dad wins the lottery or Mom sells her book,” and they’re still waiting, in their thirties.

Yet I persist. Of late, I’ve been persisting at 5:30 am. At the first of the year I came up with the genius plan of getting up an hour early to do some writing when I’m fresh (drowsy) and it’s quiet (spotify playlist). Then I (and my entire family) got Covid—a super mild case, but I didn’t have to get up and go to work and everyone was home and we spent time catching up on tv and listening to Mike cough. (Editor Nan is wondering if I could’ve added any more ‘ands’ in that sentence.)

Fast forward a month or so and I recommitted myself to an earlier wake time. And it’s working. I’m working. I'm happier and less stressed. Imagine that.

 

I think I’m almost at the stage where this is has become a habit and not a chore. And it’s been good. I usually get around  400+ words on my book and that writing ignites the part of my brain that is plot-driven and imaginative. At work, I’m carrying around cut-in-half index cards in my pocket to jot down bits of dialogue or plot points as they come. I take the last page I typed to Starbucks on my brief lunch and add some more words. And if I’m not too tired after work, I hit B&N to write a bit. 

I have 11K in the original manuscript and now I’m 700 short of 20K in my draft file, so 31K—and that 20K has been written since January. Most of its dialogue because that’s what I love to write. My second draft will be filling in the blank canvas around the dialogue

So, my advice to anyone reading. Keep your dreams alive and don’t give up. Find your happy.