I love to write the stories in my head, and it delights me when others tell me they enjoy my books. However, I didn’t always like to write. In the beginning, I never gave it a thought to become a writer.
I have many author friends who say they have always wanted to write since they were kids—it’s in their blood. Not me. I hated writing, and it certainly wasn’t in my blood. In fact, growing up and even as an adult, being a writer was the furthest thing from my mind.
As a child and even as a teen, I was never good at reading, math, memorization, etc., but I was talented in other areas. I could create, paint, do any type of craft, even play music by ear, but not by notes. You see, I have dyslexia—something I didn’t know until I was in my early thirties, married, and with two half-grown children.
From the moment I realized I had dyslexia, everything began to make sense—my inverted letters, numbers, struggles with reading and comprehension, my twisted speech, even down to the low self-esteem and inferior feelings I had experienced for years and sometimes still do. My light bulb moment opened doors for me as I learned to cope with the problem and even got better at reading and comprehension. However, I still couldn’t write because something about my brain, transferring thoughts through pen to paper, didn’t work and still doesn’t to this day.
It wasn’t until my husband bought me my first computer that I even thought about becoming a writer. There was something about the keyboard, monitor, and my brain that click from the very beginning. Possibly the creative side of my brain looked at it as a craft or something I was creating. I had a channel for the stories in my head to escape onto the computer screen and then onto the printed page.
What a trip for God to pick me to be a writer. A person who felt inadequate in every way. A person who used to read slowly and comprehend little. A person with the inherent problems dyslexia brought … what a miracle. To this day I don’t understand why He chose me, but I am blessed.
And though I still struggle at times, I have learned to work with my dyslexia and write the stories that float around in my brain. The day I held my first book in my hand, I barely held back the tears. All the struggles, sweat, tears, long days and nights, even discouragement and inadequacies of thinking … who am I to call myself a writer? was worth it all. Every bit of it was worth all my time invested.
Today, I write in spite of the words that sometimes get twisted in my brain or on my tongue, and even on the page. I know the end result is something beautiful that God has ordained to entertain and bless others—words that for me even now are a struggle. I am a testimony to God’s grace and His ability to use me in spite of my handicap.
I pray you will enjoy my books. I would love to hear from you. Please feel free to contact me.
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