Since I was little I've had a great imagination, I was basically an only child. I'm not really I have a younger half sister but she's this hazy figure in my memories. We were never close and have drawn even further away as adults. It's a long story and please don't feel bad for me. We also moved a lot, my parents were migrant farms and my step dad an acholic so... I had a crap childhood and lets just leave it at that. In order to get through that crap childhood and into the damaged responsible adult I am today I used my imagination a lot. It became an escape, that and books, I mean where do you think I got the ideas. In my teens to help me sleep I would, ok embarrassing confession, basically create fan fiction of my favorite books in my head. I started writing my own stuff around this time playing out scenarios for my characters.
I spent a good deal of 8th grade Earth Science writing what would become my first published work. It makes me cringe reading it now although I still have the tattered notebook first copy. I look back and wonder if I hadn't been so hell bent on becoming an author would I have taken some of the other routes in life I considered. I thought about becoming a nurse, a psychiatrist. My romantic teenage dream was to convert a Volkswagen microbus into a camper and just drive around hippie style working on farms and writing. Then I met my husband and it never happened. But I'm ok with that. Despite the misgivings that creep into my brain once and awhile say "what if..." I'm happy, most of the time, and content.
Yet I wonder what if I had chosen another career path. I worked so hard to reach my goal and I have an impressive list of "I used to's" under my belt but I'm finding myself kinda lost right now, not sure of my identity.
I'm a wife, mother... but who am I?
I used to be an author...
I used to write a sex advice column
I used to review naughty books and sex toys
I used to write naughty books
I used to have a thriving review site that I built from the ground up
I used to create book covers and ad work
I used to do promos for books and ok sex toys
I loved doing all of it, but it didn't pay the bills. You have to remember this was the early 2000's ebooks were just becoming a thing, (this was before Kindle) most reviews are you get the item in leu of payment for the review, small publisher don't pay you Stephen King or Nora Roberts salaries, the ad work and promo wasn't quite enough. So when the hubby lost his job, I went back to work. I couldn't keep up, I chose my family over my what at that time amounted to a hobbies. I still kept reviewing on and off as time aloud but it wasn't where I was at my peak. I kept my toes in the writing but just as a hobby posting on random places or tucking it away on a flash drive. But as the kids got older and learned to read this became less. I tried writing things other than smut and my heart just wasn't in it.
I guess that's why I created this blog, maybe to recapture a bit of my glory days. Maybe this is my mid-life crisis, I mean I do turn 40 this year. But then again 40 is the new 20, we just get better with age right ladies? I really don't know what it is, but my brain is full of all these ideas and it's distracting. I haven't felt this way in a long time and the need to write is pulling in a way it hasn't in a very long time. So I guess the only thing to do is find the flash drive and start writing before it drives me mad. OK madder than I already am.
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