I have an art room; there is a lock on the door. It is where I go to get away. It is my room. It measures 9 feet by 13 feet and is slightly messy, filled with my stuff. There is a table with books, and bulging file folders, and framed artwork, and a stack of miscellaneous sticky notes. From my brown leather chair with its matching ottoman, I can look through the north window towards Illwaco, at the gray-blue Pacific Ocean (which by the way is awesome this time of year), or I can sneak a glance directly west, through the double glass doors that open to our second floor balcony just above the living room, and catch a view through the triple windowed dormer. On the wall across from me is a stretched canvas sign with inspiring words (in no particular order); a constant reminder of the things that I aspire to in my life.
This is my world; this is where I write.
It is now 2013; a new year; my year. I no longer feel intimidated by this strange new world of writing, but instead I am inspired by its endless possibilities. I sold my first short story last year and my first full length manuscript (The Dark Side of Winter) is off to an agent. The first week of January, I sent a short story and a poem off for possible publication, and I am in the beginning stages of my new book—“Shades of Yellow; Tainted White”—a true story, in fiction form, set in time before the beginning of World War II. My plan is to have it ready to submit at the 2013 OCW Summer Conference.
I have stories; to many stories. So, from my room with a view, I will write my stories—with passion—and pray that God will use my words to touch the hearts of those that read them.