Let's welcome Maureen L. Bonatch to the Roses!
Some days I just think about giving up on my
writing dream. Now, don’t get me wrong, I could never stop writing. That’s just crazy talk. Most writers know that once
stories are in your blood, you have to purge them or else risk going a little
crazy.
I’m talking about everything else that comes along with striving for that dream. You
know, everything most authors don’t realize until they’ve already drank the
Kool-Aid. Things like the giant promotion machine that you must transform into
if you don’t want your book to fissile into oblivion except for a few devoted
friends and family. Then the developing side effects of either having your
laptop grow into a cyber-extension of yourself or risk drowning in emails.
But I have another reason why I just can’t stop
pursuing my dream no matter how tired I get of treading water. Two reasons,
actually—my twin daughters. They both have always enjoyed writing stories, and
one appears to have been bitten by the writing bug already. In the last year I’ve
seen her devotion to the prose growing. You see, she has a dream of being an
author. Sound familiar?
Except when I was growing up all I heard was, “Get a job that pays the bills,” and “Writing isn’t a real job.” So I did
just that. Until I returned to my true passion a handful of years ago. But what
if I someone had shown me that writing could be a career? That this passion is
worthy of the blood, sweat and tears devoted to it? Someone who understood the
joy of getting the words on the page?
In a craft that one continues to nurture over a
lifetime I can only imagine that my writing would be even better if I’d started
to hone it at the young age of fifteen. I hadn’t realized by pushing myself to
follow my passion and dreams that I was acting as a role model.
Psst…don’t tell my daughter, but I’ve snagged a
snippet of the start of one of Yasmine’s stories to share. Hey, I’m a Mom—I
have to brag a little.
****
“So, there’s no way to
lift this curse?” I ask, I wasn’t exactly keen on collecting souls or whatever
I was supposed to do for the rest of my life.
The dark haired boy
gives me a look of pity, and I know that there is no cure for the curse. This
is my worst nightmare. All I wanted was a simple quiet life where I could just
float through invisibly without attracting any attention, but now apparently I
have to return to my job of reaping souls. Why is it fair that I have to
continue the work of my past self?
****
It brings me such joy to see my daughter
writing her own stories, and more so because I think even without my “mom-googles” she’s pretty good. So I
won’t give up. In fact, I’ll continue to actively pursue my writing—while I
toss out a life jacket to keep another dream afloat.
About the Author:
Maureen is published in
paranormal romance and fantasy
in the beautiful state of Pennsylvania. Her stories boast laughter, light
suspense and magic. She loves sharing her love of uncovering the extraordinary
in the ordinary world—and making people smile. Visit
her website, or
follow her on Facebook and Twitter. Maureen is also a
Freelance Writer. View her writing portfolio on Contently.
