I am a writer, and the writing process can be a joy, and it can be a stressful limitation of persistence and the ability to keep the faith. I know this fact because I have been writing since I was fourteen years old.  My writing career began with the written word, and Harlequin Romances.

         The many books I have read since I was fourteen turned into the beginning of my writing career. I started off writing short stories for Black Romance magazine, after reading a dozen of them.  “I can write a story like this,” I thought to myself.  I did and the rest is history as they say. My history is nineteen published short stories for the magazine.

         I continued my trend with my first published novel, “I Confess.”  A collection of twenty-two confession short stories about romance, and the realities of the world.  “Bells and butterflies, Living Large and The Tease are just a few of the stories.  Confession stories are the bomb, and I wanted to share them with the world in my “I Confess” series. The book is being recognized, but it’s not on the best-selling list, thank you very much. I’m hoping that’s going to change in a few years. The “I Confess” series will continue along the way. I am working on “I Confess 6” right now.

       The writing life can be boring, and mind-boggling in the process of trying to get your first novel published, and believe in your work. I had numerous rejections, but I found myself believing in “I Confess” and refused to give up the headache. I continued until I finally got the email that made my dreams come true.

      The entire mechanics of book publishing from the creation of the manuscript, the book cover, the editing, the number of steps that leads to publication, the proofs, and then holding your pride and joy in your hands, is the most incredible feeling in the world. Only a writer/author could experience such a joy in every form. I felt like I had finally accomplished my dreams, and the world was my oyster. “I am a published author; I have a book out; I am famous.”  I laugh because reality does exist, and wake up, and smell the laundry detergent, but I wouldn’t trade the writing life for a million dollars and then some.

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