by Patricia Caviglia
I am a writer. I did not always know it or accept it. As an only and lonely young child, I told myself many stories. I created them, wrote them in my mind, and edited them. They provided hours of entertainment. I discovered an appreciation for reading around age thirteen: I read my first novel, a romance story. I can’t remember how many pages it was, but I remember thinking it was a monster of a book. I never thought I would get through it. In fact, the only reason I borrowed it from the library was to read the juicy scenes. I was curious! I became curious about the story too. That is when my love of reading and writing began.
I devoured novels and was inspired to write everything from scripts to poetry. In a Chemistry class, I even wrote an ode to the atom. Reading and writing are what I did. By the time I entered university, I made sure that I could write the best papers possible. After all, writing was my talent. I would honor it. Enough professors expressed how much they enjoyed reading my well written essays that I know I received higher marks than I deserved on some papers.
Why then did I not pursue writing as a career until my thirties? Few people ever suggested it. The most important person was my mother. She believed I should do something important and highly remunerated. Creativity and art were not considered options. Eventually, I stopped being creative on paper and reverted to being creative in my head. It is in my nature to write. I cannot stop the flow of characters and stories. I have tried.
Before I became a mother, so many parents told me that children would change my life. They always made it sound negative like a burden. Perhaps they did not mean it that way or perhaps I misunderstood them. However, I found that my daughter’s birth gave me focus. In a way, I became more selfish. I stopped stifling myself and unleashed a novella upon the world. Between the Tweeting, the Facebook sharing, the blogging, and the story writing, I am writing more than I ever have before. I never seem to stop. Some days, it feels like there aren’t enough letters in the alphabet for all these words that keep spewing out of me. Some days, I write so much I do not want to talk. Other times, I should write about one thing (like right now, I should be working on a short story contest entry), but I find myself wanting to work on something entirely different (this blog post).
What is amazing is that I am living a dream I never allowed myself to believe could be a reality until I became a mother. As a mother, I am my daughter’s primary example of what a woman should be – courageous enough to believe in herself and pursue her dreams.
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Patricia Caviglia is a mom, a writer and a full-time railroader. Her first published work, a young adult novella, is entitled Masks
.
Website:
http://www.patriciacaviglia.com/
Blog:
http://masksthebook.wordpress.com/
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Would you like to participate in Friday "Speak Out!"? Email your short posts (under 500 words) about women and writing to: marcia[at]wow-womenonwriting[dot]com for consideration. We look forward to hearing from you!
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