Writing, like most things in life, is a journey.

My early stories remind me of a toddler stumbling around, halfway on their hands, halfway on their feet, trying to stand up and failing, oh so many times. There are bumps and bruises, and goodness, it was rather amusing to those standing on the sidelines watching.

Then came the days where I was steady on my feet, and ran around like a crazy little child. I didn’t care how the words looked, if the grammar was acceptable, or if the plot line flowed. Instead, I was incredibly excited to simply know how to write, and I wrote with abandon.

Next came the knowledge that although I called myself a writer, I was quite far from being an author. Like the dream of running a marathon, transitioning from being a writer to being an author took hours of hard, hard work. I had to change my mindset, work with muscles that were unaccustomed to being used, and stay dedicated even when certain parts of my brain were screaming at me to give up.

There were things I had to let go of, other dreams I had to set aside, and naysayers I had to stop listening to. As time went on though, not only did my work begin to pay off, but it also helped me stay more focused and dedicated in other areas of life.

Although I’m a published author now, there are still so many things I don’t know. So many things I could be better at. So many areas to grow. Sometimes it feels like the bends in the road are coming more often than before, and there are times when it’s daunting.

But, despite being overwhelming, I’m excited to see what pops up next. Writing isn’t an overnight road to fame. Writing isn’t always fun. Writing is quite often not what I had expected it to be, but it is worth it. The curves, the dips, the hills, the detours… they all work together to make my life as a writer an adventure. And hey, writers need to have inspiration, right?

Do y’all relate to writing being a journey? What does the road ahead of you currently look like?