My name is Jen, and I love to write. It’s that simple. I try and do it every day. I try to read something new every day.
Six years ago I was sitting at my keyboard trying to think of a way to start this story idea I had in my head. As I sat there starring at the blank screen, I felt like I had these two invisible hands wrapping around my throat, slowly constricting the air from my body. I closed my eyes, thinking I had a panic attack looming, and tried to remember how to breathe. When I finally opened my eyes again, it was there. The first few lines and scenario of where to start. I cursed out my muse for making her presence known so dramatically, but started to pound away nonetheless.
For the next several months I would come home from work every day and just write until dinner. Over the course of three years I lived, breathed and dreamed of my characters, story and envisioned about a hundred different outcomes. But I loved what I was writing. I was writing a story that I would want to read. Selfish? Maybe… but hey, I figured I was the only one who would ever actually read it.
Starting those first few lines in January of 2006, it was January of 2009 that I wrote the last few. I hit save, left the room, and didn’t look at that story again for two more years. I couldn’t. Every time I tried I felt this knot in my gut like I had just spent the better part of three years living with a family that had grown tiresome. I mean, everyone needs a break from their family after awhile, especially a dysfunctional one like this.
About this time last year I was fired from my job, and suddenly transported to a world that maybe absolutely no sense to me. A world of little feet, little hands, poopy butts and cartoons. Lots and lots of cartoons. Sure, they were my kids so I had a minute idea of how to do things, but suddenly thrust into THEIR world 24/7 was a bit, well, unsettling. It took some time, but I finally felt comfortable and having NO IDEA what to do with myself career-wise, just hunkered down at tried focusing on Dora, Yo Gabba Gabba, Sidewalk Chalk, picky eaters, tiny toys that hurt your feet more than glass and three sets of perfect little hands to hug me and play with me. It was great… still is. But I miss writing.
So, why the back story you ask? Well, because everyone has a back story. Everyone has a reason why they are doing what they are doing. Everyone. This is mine. I am editing my book because I want it to be read. I want feedback to see if others like it as much as I do. I want to reconnect with a community of people who share the same passions and ideas I do. And, let’s be honest, I need to make money. If I can accomplish that by writing, I would be a fool not too. If I can show my kids that anything is possible, including a career path you love and have a passion for, I would be a fool not too. I’ve been on the sidelines and I am ready to get back into the game.
That’s me – a mother and wife. A simple girl who grew up on the Jersey Shore, who just likes a damn good story. I write what I think is interesting, I write about things that fascinate me, and I just hope that maybe you will enjoy one of my stories.