Ten years…

I can’t believe I’m actually saying that. I can’t believe we’re actually at this point already. Can you believe I missed the actual date of my ten-year authorversary? Yeah, I know. One of the biggest milestones there is in this career choice, and I somehow missed the day completely. How in the world do I miss a milestone like that? That date should have been burned into my brain like that of death anniversaries. But alas, it was a few days later before it dawned on me on a random Sunday night parked in front of the TV while I scheduled October’s #WWReborn social media posts.

October 1, 2016.

That was the day my entire dream became tangible. Not just some ‘what if’ scenario. The day something I wrote got released in print for the whole world to hold and read. I’ll never forget that soul-wrenching elation.

A lot has happened in ten years though.

Published my first ever short story with a small press.

Said small press closed not even a year later, sending my story out of print.

Partook in sixteen NaNoWriMo challenges before the company went to hell.

Wrote a whole book, technically two.

Wrote a shit ton of flash fiction, at least one hundred and seventy-three pieces.

Made a bunch of writing friends through the Wattpad CM UC Community.

Lost a bunch of those writing friends as life moved on.

Got another short story into a Halloween anthology on Wattpad.

Had my first biggest fan and over-the-top cheerleader that every writer dreams of having.

Lost my biggest fan and cheerleader in the blink of an eye.

Started a degree for a Bachelor’s in Creative Writing, with two minors.

Attended three Writing Day Workshops and a couple other random workshops over the years.

Started four other novels. Finished none.

Began a rewrite on my first published story to become a novel. Abandoned it part way through.

Basically stopped writing in any real capacity for a few years.

Joined the #WritingCommunity on Twitter and Bluesky. Grew my audience and broke follower counts I never thought I’d reach.

Made new friends and connections among the #WritingCommunity of those platforms, especially Twitter.

Wrote a few more short stories. Got all three published within four months of each other. Two of them got snatched up right away.

Took a bucket list cross country trip for six weeks. (I know, not exactly writing, but still a major life event.)

Lost my best friend and writing mentor unexpectedly.

Paused the whole Bachelor’s degree thing while I grieved and have yet to find my way back to it.

Joined the Weeknight Writers Community on Discord.

Started #WWReborn writing prompt series to honor my friend and mentor.

Started #WhatchaReadinWed on all other socials.

Began my rewrite for a second time. Abandoned it, again, two thirds of the way through this time. So at least I made it much further this go round.

Won a few giveaways among fellow writers of the #WritingCommunity and received such positive feedback on the new start of my WiP rewrite novel, and my first character art piece.

Pitched my WiP novel among countless Twitter and Bluesky pitch events. Garnered the interest of three literary agents.

Watched at least four legitimate literary agents start to follow little ‘ole me on those platforms.

Had plans to begin querying my WiP rewrite novel for an agent in 2026. Those plans dissolved.

Lost my entire writing spark again for another year plus because life got so hard.

Received a diagnosis of autism and ADHD. Though also not writing related, it helped explain so much, and it does widely influence my writing.

Finally bought my domain name for this website.

And now?

Now we’re delicately holding on to coaxing that spark back to life.

My writing career thus far has been one hell of a roller coaster. Sadly, one with more prominent lows than highs it seems. A part of me wonders if I can even truly call all of this a career. Like the vast majority of writers, I’ve spent more money on it than I’ve ever made. Although, I was lucky enough to hold one of those elusive royalty checks once. Figuratively, at least, since everything is direct deposit nowadays.

Perhaps it’s more accurately summed up as a writing journey rather than a career. A journey of discovery, passion, heartbreak, elation, pride, worthlessness, hope, joy, despair… There’s certainly been plenty of ready-to-give-up moments. More than I could ever count. Not enough high points among the clouds to balance out those scales either. At least, the scales certainly feel heavier on the lows even as I look at that timeline above.

In truth, I thought I’d be so much farther than where I am today.

When I submitted that very first story, I expected nothing even if I daydreamed for more. I definitely didn’t expect my first try to result in that magical opening email line: “I think this tale will be a wonderful addition … [and] we would like to offer [you] a contract for publication!”

I was in my early twenties back then when I read those exact lines. I never in a million years thought I’d be a published author at that age. Other writers spend years and years and years writing, revising, submitting, seeking rep, writing some more, revising again, still submitting before they ever get that opening email line. And here I was… First ever submission, young, naive, and wildly under-honed on my craft. Yet I was being published. I was one of the mythical unicorns who didn’t spend forever pouring their soul into getting those first words in print.

If I were fully honest, I’ve questioned that publication for the last eight years. Was I really good enough to be published? Was I only being published because of a connection I had? Did the anthology just not have enough entrees so I made it in out of necessity or pity?

The small press went through multiple rounds of edits with me before it got published, but I still cringe now when I read that first story that graced the world. A large part of me is actually glad it’s gone out of print. It sucked at the time that the print run never made it a full year due to the publisher’s closing, but now I’m widely relieved it’s no longer available. I’ll still let friends or family read it if they ask, but I’m not as proud of it as I used to be. More accurately, I’m not as proud of the writing as I am of more current work. Ten years really does change your writing voice and style. That constant advice about stretching your writing muscles really does have some truth to it.

Besides, going out of print gave me the chance to pick and choose what I did like about the story and rewrite it. Not as another short story, but as a novel. The aforementioned rewrite that’s up to try number three at this point.

But I digress.

Because of that early on success and the progress I made in the few years that followed it, I truly thought I would have more to show for this career choice ten years later. Except I let people break me with their words and actions. I let my bonfire passion fizzle down to embers that even turned to ash at one point.

Unfortunately, that means I’ve lost years of honing my craft and reaching for more words in print to self-doubt and other’s opinions. If I’d known the things I do now, maybe that spark wouldn’t have died and I’d have an agent right now with a book on Barnes & Noble shelves.

But I don’t. I have countless starts and no finishes. I have a soul still wavering to find her way and stand solid in her passion.

And I also have four major successes. Four short stories that have made it into the world for a reason. Along with almost two hundred writing muscle pieces and partial novels that don’t amount to nothing just because they weren’t finished. They all amount to time well spent honing my craft.

So, no, I don’t have an agent. Or a book deal. Or a big fat royalty check with books flying off shelves. I don’t have thousands of followers or the ability to treat this passion as a full time job.

What I have is just as good in the grand scheme of things right now because it is still progress. Two steps forward and three steps back at times perhaps, but progress all the same.

Here’s to ten years, and hopefully many more to come. Who knows, maybe in another five or ten years I’ll have that agent and book deal.