I've decided to blog about how I became a writer, a children's writer.
No, I haven't written all my life.
No, I haven't studied and earned a degree in English, creative writing or journalism.
No, I don't have any friends in the business (prior to my starting, anyway).
No, I didn't make up a lot of stories as a child.
Here's what happened.
Crisis. Yup. Life crisis. I had a defining moment in my life that involved a tragedy. I didn't know if my emotional make-up would "stick together". I didn't know that humans could feel such pain and I didn't know how to express that pain. It was what I call a howling heart. I found myself pouring my pain on paper. It was effortless. It flowed. It came from somewhere so deep inside that I'm sure it was sub-conscious or perhaps simply soul writing.
Years later, I discovered that source tugging at me in a life-giving way. TO WRITE FOR CHILDREN! To capture the awe, the innocence, the wonder of the child and let it flow. To embrace inspiration from a child's POV. To use a child's voice and to understand that play is necessary. To let that source guide and provide the words...I call it a gift.
So I give. I give without reservation. I write from my heart. I feel it. I see it. I envision the illustrations (although I know that's a no-no), I simply can't help it. It's creativity. My hope is that my writing touches children. I want to touch the children. Imagination creates. Imagination plays. Imagination touches heaven. It is a gift.