I’ve taken up another new genre, again. I’ve never been able to choose and stick with one type of writing. I don’t know why, maybe because I read everything, I feel inclined to write everything. I love murder mysteries, horror, fantasy, dark comedies – and children’s books. Hmmmm, I’m conflicted.
I’ve always loved to write. But, there were many years when I was working, going to school and raising kids I didn’t have time. I hardly had time to brush my teeth some days. When my parents became ill I wrote for therapy. Getting feelings down on paper and then reading them later helped me see things from a different perspective.
When I became a grandmother I wrote for my favorite child to make us both happy. The little light of my life loved his grandma’s books. He even told his friends that his grandma wrote books – the cool kind with wizards and stuff. Sniff! After I picked my melted heart up off the floor, I wrote more of them! He was my best critic. I even named a main character after him. Then he outgrew me.
I’ve written mostly fantasy and children’s books but, lately I’ve been writing women’s literature. After all, I’m a woman. My latest project is a novel about a woman who lives alone in a broken down beach house and sells vegetables at her produce stand for a living. But she is not what she appears to be – a semi recluse who avoids the world. The story takes a lot of twists and turns (has a little sex and violence thrown in for good measure) and hopefully keeps the reader guessing. It’s a story of mature love, but more than a romance novel.
I hope my “next big thing” will be finished this spring. I keep thinking of ideas and it grows daily, so it may never be finished but, it is a labor of love.
Now that I feel the need to write for myself, maybe I will eventually be able to settle on a genre but, the prospect doesn’t look promising. My interests are too varied. Writing for me doesn’t guarantee a fan base or book sales but it does guarantee a soul with a purpose. Maybe it will be good enough for both.