Some Thoughts

There is always a reason for a writer to put down with pen and paper (or in this day and age computer) a fantasy world that comes to them, battering down the door at night when you are trying to sleep. I'm no different.

The world of Martapa has been with me since a bunch of boys going on men took me into their group in college and decided I needed to be sheltered. (Which included teaching me how to use short swords and staves...don't ask.) My original foray into Martapa was about the Chosen, four young people thrust into danger to fulfill their destinies. All of them were based off my friends and myself (along with several other characters I added later as I added more close friends at college). My friends were supportive of the endeavor, but when I got out of college and work ensued, my world went to the way side.

I picked it up now and again over the years, but when my husband and sister said they needed a roleplaying fix (it had been years since we had played in a roleplaying group) I suggested my neglected world. Two years of Internet roleplaying (imagine doing 2000 words of description every other day or more) and I had quite the flushed out world along with a good story arch. (Though I base a lot of my novels on our roleplaying, quite a bit had to be fixed to actually fit into a story arch.) I joked about writing the exploits of our characters into a story, but only dabbled at it. I had two kids under three and parents to help out.

In 2004, after fiddling around for who knew how long, I realized I needed to write my story. It became a selfish reason for I knew I would never finish my endeavor if I didn't start it. My dad's recurrence of cancer made that all too clear. My father loved fantasy books. If there was ever a man who memorized the Lord of the Rings, it was probably him. And when he thought I was really going to sit down and write a book, he was so supportive. He would tell me often that he'd love to see my name in print right next to Tolkien on his shelf. So I wrote for him, knowing full well that my dying father would never see the end product.

I lost my father in 2005 to cancer, 2 weeks short of his 60th birthday. Obviously I never finished before he died, but everyday, as I work on this labor of love I have him mind, knowing he is looking over my shoulder waiting for me to get my butt in gear and get my book published. Published so it can sit next to his Tolkien books on his shelf.

So in the time of remembering, this time we share with our loved ones, remember why you started writing your book and keep that firmly in mind as we start the new year. You may never get your book published, but don't let it remained unfinished.
Happy Holidays and a Happy New year to all of you.
Tomorrow: Magical Bags