Several years ago, while reading a book I didn’t enjoy I decided would try my hand at writing. Writing was something I had loved as a teen, but got off course and perused other career options. I wanted to write a book I would enjoy reading, where the story unfolds slowly and of course has a happily ever after ending. I was about thirty years old, married mother of one and worked full time. I’d had several short works published at an early age, and had always loved the written word. I had no intention of writing to be published. I was going to write a story that had been bottled up inside of my head for years. I really wanted to know how it ended and thought writing it for my pleasure and that of a few close friends would be fun.
I didn’t dare tell anyone what I was doing for they would all think I was crazy, or so I thought. I wrote on my lunch break, I wrote a bit a night, I wrote when my husband went hunting, I wrote every spare second I had. I wanted to find the end of the story, I wanted to know the details. Writing was fun. It was exhilarating. It was my secret.
Three months down the road it was done. I took it to a friend, a former English teacher and an avid reader. I took it to another friend who loved to read. They both loved it, but of course they knew I’d written it and by then I wanted to know if anyone else would like it.
I went online and poked around, found a contest and entered. I got the best and worse scores ever, but the lady who gave me the worst scores gave the best advice EVER. She wrote a lot of notes and comments and completely constructive criticism. I found out later that she’d gone well above and beyond what judges normally do. She was a multi-published author and to this day it is all I know about her. She told me things I had no clue about, she knew that I was new to writing romance, even guessed this was the first story I’d written, she told me all I needed to know to make the story even better. I took her advice, made a few changes, shot out a query letter (after I figured out what that was), and got a request for the full manuscript within three weeks.
As she’d suggested I joined groups, made writing friends, took classes and learn more than I thought possible about writing and the business.
It killed my writing.
I am not saying these have not helped me tremendously with “mechanical and technical” writing skills. As a matter of fact it’s done much more. But it killed my writing. The book was rejected, a “good rejection” and I was given the option to submit directly to the editor again. I did. But that second manuscript was filled with what I’d started to think of as “the right stuff”. It was rejected, a few comments from the same editor, but not as encouraging as the first. I knew she lost interest.

So had I.
Writing wasn’t fun – it wasn’t exhilarating. There was a cloud, something hanging over my head. I went on to start other manuscripts, got more interest and requests. But, I’d lost interest in writing…in finding the end. Two manuscripts sit, requested, yet unfinished and unpolished.
Life got in the way and I let it. I took a four year hiatus from writing. I kept semi-active in my writing groups and I’ve remained close to writing friends. I’ve watched their careers blow off the charts – I am so very proud of them.
I’ve found the itch to write never dies. Still stifled by all the knowledge I’ve acquired I slowly began to work my way back into writing circles.
Recently I met a new writer, her reasons for writing similar to mine… in the beginning. She hasn’t been overwhelmed with knowledge and I hope she doesn’t get that way. She was so fresh and so taken with writing, just to write, she gave me that old buzz, you know the one? When you really want to WRITE.
I refuse to be overwhelmed. I just want to write again. But in order to do that, I had to figure out where I went wrong. I’ve watched a dear friend go from questioning, to becoming a national best seller. I’ve watched other friends follow her lead.
I took a break and I can say being on “the outside” for a while helped me see, and understand things I never took the time to realize before.
I think I might finally understand what it is successful writes have that I didn’t. They can push the “stuff” to the side and JUST WRITE.
Write each spare minute. Write for the love of it. And be true to your story.
Technical and mechanical “stuff” can be fixed, edited and handled. Write the story you need to tell then worry about the rest. I’ve watched others figure that out and have much success.
This was originally published in the Heartbeat, the newsletter for my local chapter of RWA, Heart of Louisiana about two and ½ years ago. Since that time I’ve written and contacted three novellas and have one full length under submission now.

About the Author: Rhonda’s contemporary romances range from sweet and sassy to sensually erotic, covering just about everything in between. Her stories will always have a Happily Ever After, because nothing makes her want to scream more than a cheerless ending. One Wilde Night can be found here: www.lyricalpress.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=2_12&products_id=215&zenid=arl757cvvddfdkjboq29032oh5

This post was submitted by Rhonda Leah.

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