It’s hard to believe that I’ve been writing for almost twenty five years. I keep up with it because my writing anniversary is the same age as my oldest daughter. I was a stay-at-home mom, unhappily married, living on the beautiful island of Oahu in Honolulu, Hawaii, totally taking for granted how easy life was at the time. Nevertheless, I fell in love with reading again when I read a historical romance novel by fellow Michigander, Beverly Jenkins. I’d read other books by Michigan authors, most notably, Terry McMillan. But it was while reading Ms. Jenkins’ books, that I realized I had a story I wanted to tell. I pulled out my blue manual typewriter and my writing journey began. That was 1996. As the first words flowed so easily on the page, I had no idea how I would struggle for the next two decades finding time to write.
Life got complicated and real when I left Hawaii. I divorced my husband, becoming a single mom. I went back to school and obtained two degrees while working full time, raising my daughter, and trying to have a social life. I got remarried. Had a second child. Divorced again. Married again. Became a caretaker when my husband became terminally ill.
Still, I squeezed in time for writing. When I say, squeezed, I really mean squeeze. I’ve written in morning before work. I’ve written at night when everyone was sleep. I’ve written in the break room while on lunch. I’ve written at my desk when I was supposed to be working. I’ve written sitting in a parked car while my son was getting a hair cut.
Two published books, hundreds of blog posts, and umpteen personal essays later, I’m still searching of my perfect time for writing. I’m not sure in exist.
In the meantime, I’ll keep writing as much as I can, whenever I can. Even in the bowling alley Saturday morning with my son like I’m doing today.LaCharmine L.A. Jefferson