Dear Amy, I see you there, writing weird stories about your friends. The curse of the FTM and all that. Stories which make your high school chums laugh with glee, especially since you illustrate them with dirty stick figures.
Yeah, you look so innocent, but your mind wasn't.
But I also see you writing that Frankenstein/Phantom of the Opera weird, dark romance thing.
The one where you have copious pages of front and back loose leaf pages. Where any scrap of paper you snatch to write in secret. This was before your parents invested in a good computer. The Tandy that they have is starting to bite the bullet and is only good for a fun game of Press Your Luck (Watch out for the Whammies).
I also know about that reverse Princess Bride saga you wrote. The one that's over 400 pages hand written front and back. These two stories preoccupy your time, but you're keeping the secret of being an author to yourself. You don't think you'll get there.
This is just a hobby.
2006 when your second son (You have three kids btw. Don't mean to scare you, but your fear of children changes and your biological clock kicks all your fears to the side) almost dies you're going to take that little "hobby" and turn it into a dream come true.
This will be your first book, Masque of Desire from Ellora's Cave:
I know! You're like OMG look at that semi naked man holding a pumpkin and your virginal cheeks are blushing the shade of red. How the hell do you think you got the three kids?
My point is, your secret little dream, IS a reality.
Fast forward to 2013 and you're published with Harlequin.
All those hours spent looking at their writing guidelines and wishing, well it's finally a reality and you have to work hard.
So work hard now.
Sure, nothing ever comes from those stories you're scribbling at now, but don't toss them.
They were your first and they helped fill some lonely hours. It was better than drinking and doing drugs. So enjoy them and know that your dream will come true.
No matter what anyone says!