By: Elizabeth Redhead
Kriston
My goals in high school revolved around me not going to college. Instead, I felt compelled to become a professional
make-up artist. Oddly, that goal involved one of my earliest memories of writing.
I composed a passionate letter to an aesthetician with a
byline in Glamour magazine requesting guidance and advice. My writing must not
have impressed her. In fact, she ended up being the better persuasive writer as
I immediately abandoned that dream
based on her reply.
Fast forward thirty years, my framed Master of Science degree hangs on the light grey walls of my home office, and the CV printed on thick cotton paper that lives in the cabinet beside my desk lists my professionally published works including six children’s books and blogs. How did this happen?
When I ran into a friend from my middle school days, I asked
her how she remembered me as a twelve year old. She smiled and said, “Your nose
was always in a book.” My peers in college thought me odd because my favorite
assignment, writing papers, was loathed by them. In hindsight, it appears that my love of the written word was immense and
intense. It seems to have been my destiny.
As I became successful in the pursuits of adulthood (family,
career, home), I learned to listen to and
trust myself which allowed me to act on my instincts and ideas. Consequently,
amazing things happened.
As a speech therapist, I relied on children’s books. Over
time, I realized that the type of book I needed to accomplish the goals I set
for my clients did not exist, so I wrote
one.
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| Find My Book Here |
This experiment turned out to be deeply satisfying and
rewarding. I loved what I had written,
and so did the kids with whom I shared my homemade, stapled book that I
illustrated with sloppily, pasted clip-art.
Eventually, I started to submit my book to publishing houses
(that was back when you could query directly). I received denial after denial,
and I loved them all. Yes it stung, but many of the rejection notes were
encouraging, so I kept moving forward.
Sooner than expected, I received a phone call from a
publisher who gushed about my book. He wanted to publish it “right away.” I was
over the moon. I called everyone I knew to tell them I was going to be published!
After anxiously awaiting for the contract to appear in the
mail, when it arrived, I tore into the thick, golden envelope only to discover
this particular publishing house required that I invest thousands of dollars
into creating and marketing my book. Though this was not technically a scam, it
was not what I had envisioned as my
path. With a heavy heart, I declined the offer and trudged forward with
submissions and queries.
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| My Publisher |
Destiny led me to the perfect publisher. One who understood my
vision. One who wanted to invest fully in bringing my book, and future books to fruition. Together, we created a book series that has been very successful in a niche market.
My success with these picture books gave me the confidence
to branch out and explore other writing genres. However, before I could truly
embrace the writer within me, I recognized that I needed to heal my heart and
soul deciding writing my memoir would do the job. That poorly written piece, combined
with my discovery of David Sedaris, lead
me to delve deeper into the art of non-fiction writing in the form of humorous
essays and stories.
My beloved grandmother inspired my next project. I wanted to
document her life story for my family. This project of love was excruciatingly
difficult as I felt the eyes of my large extended family judging each word I chose. The pressure to do it right was, at
times, debilitating.
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| Find Ma on Kindle Here |
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| Find Ma in Paperback Here |
Once that book was complete (five agonizing years later), I started writing essays about my life.
Through writing these stories, I realized that my experiences as an adoptive
parent could be very helpful for others who were considering this path.
I pitched agents my concept and received enthusiastic
feedback. My excitement was short lived when I discovered publishers require authors of non-fiction to have extensive
platforms. Motivated to be successful, I researched “platforms.” Then, I
dipped my toe into social media outlets beyond Facebook.
Already on the public speaking junket, visiting schools and community events with my children’s
books, I began training professionals and parents on literacy and language
development. I built a website and began this blog.
Life is full of
unexpected twists. After writing blogs for a few months, my publisher
connected me with the owners of an online CEU company. Minutes after a lively
conference call, I found myself penning my first professional blog. A few
months prior I barely knew what a blog was; now “professional blogger” was
added to my growing CV.
Currently, my platform grows at the speed of moss on a
rolling stone. I continue to trudge
forward submitting pieces. My slow and methodical evolution as a writer
continues, and each day I get better at
my craft (at least I hope so).
Now I sit at my laptop, my face scrubbed clean of any traces of make-up as I try to write daily. Never forgetting that brutally, honest aesthetician, I ask
professional peers to read and critique my work. The truth hurts sometimes. I
allow myself to feel hurt (not wallow in it), and then I get over it. This
exercise in humility and strength propels me to evolve as a writer, the writer
I never imagined I’d become.
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