Last week I had an epiphany.

I was talking to my grandma about going back to school for nursing, and how stressful of a task it was turning into, and I realized something: I want to be a writer.

Heck, I've wanted to be a writer since 7th grade, but it has always seemed so out of reach. I wonder constantly what it would be like to work for myself, to do something I truly love, to be able to live my own life and write and live as I please. I imagined having my own home with my hubby and kids and my cozy little office where I could escape into my fantasy world of writing. I imagine seeing my novels on bookshelves in stores and malls around the world.

Then I thought of something even better....I CAN do that. Now, this isn't me being cocky. This is me looking at the novels I write and being impressed even with myself. As rejection after rejection letter has come to me, I have started pinning them up on the wall in my office. It's not to be disappointing, it's simply to give me the push I need. After all, “you can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will.”
― Stephen King

This is what I'm meant to do. Yes, I LOVE medicine. Yes, when I feel like I may not suceed in writing, I turn to school and nursing and med school and work, work, work....

But I want to write. I want my books to be known. I want my name to be known.

And it will be.

I am so pleased to announce that Get Echo is finally finished! (Well okay, still in the process of adding a few chapters as I type, but you get the jest of it.)

After all that work and yet another novel down, I can't seem to sort out my feelings. One part of me is ecstatic. I mean, that's the third novel that I have completed. However, another part of me is so overwhelmed with the book that I want to pull my hair out. I finished it so quickly that I feel as though all of the pages just blur together into a huge pile of crap. I know I souldn't feel that way, that I should be proud, but I just wish it sounded as good on paper as it did in my head. (Wishful thinking for any writer, I know.)

So, moving on. I'm currently having it read and edited by my personal editor and also the love of my life. He claims he likes it of course, although I know if he said otherwise I would probably curl up and cry, and I think he knows that. Regardless, I need a few more volunteers to scrutinize this book before an agent gets a hold of it. I need a few people who are quick, thorough, and HONEST. None of that, "This is so good and I see nothing wrong with it" bull-crap. If you think you're the right person to read this novel and give it to me straight, please get a hold of me. I need your opinion.

That is all for today. I hope you all have a lovely evening.

Xo,

Amber

Get Echo sneak peek!

     She didn’t want his help; she wanted to get rid of him. With a sinking feeling she realized that she had no idea where she was going, and the house was huge. If he didn’t show her where it was, she feared she may vomit all over the untainted carpet. So she simply shrugged and smiled, letting The Boy take her hand in his as he pulled her gently towards the stairwell. She stumbled after him, doing her best impression of a sober person. She knew she wasn’t fooling anybody when she tripped and nearly biffed it on the fourth step. Luckily, everyone was just as hammered as she was, and no one noticed.
    “You okay there?” The Boy asked as they reached the top of the stairs. He squeezed her hand and Echo closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as a wave of nausea hit her. She doubled over but didn’t vomit. “Easy,” The Boy said, sounding nonchalant. She felt him grab her under the arms and haul her to her feet. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”
    All she could do was nod as he half dragged her down the hallway. They stopped at a closed door, and The Boy knocked. When no one answered, he pushed it open and hauled her in, shutting the door behind them. She heard a small, pin like click as he locked it. She forced herself to open her eyes, confused. Her vision was blurred, and the room was spinning around her. She knew she was drunk, but there was no fooling that this was not the bathroom. Before she could say a word, The Boy hauled Echo to her feet. She opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly his lips were on hers, engulfing her mouth. Shocked, she tried to push him away.
    “What are you doing?” she gasped. “Don’t.”
    “Just relax,” said The Boy. She automatically tensed up as he smashed his lips to hers again, this time pushing her backwards toward the bed. She dropped the drink in her hand to fight him off. It fell to the floor with a dull thud and rolled a few feet before stopping, spilling all over the nice beige carpet. Echo shrieked as she stumbled backwards over something, landing hard on the bed. Frantically she tried to sit up, but The Boy took his chance and pushed her down hard.
    “Let go of me.” She tried to kick him away, to struggle free, but The Boy held her down. He was fierce and determined…suddenly dangerous. Once again she could smell the cologne and alcohol on him, and she wanted to gag. She tried to scream but The Boy covered her mouth with his hand. It was even more clammy, disgusting, and gross. She felt like she would never escape his hold.
    “Please…” she begged. Somewhere inside of her, terror was pulling at her chest. She couldn’t think; couldn’t breathe. She was helpless now, a victim. Tears rolled down her face. They were warm, salty tears, all too familiar. The Boy didn’t notice that she had now stopped struggling as he reached for her pant zipper. His grasp hadn’t loosened, his rough hands digging into the sensitive curves of her neck and shoulders. She had a fleeting thought that his rough handling would probably leave bruises up and down her skin.
    What will Uncle Michael think?
    He was heavy upon her, his body is pressing into Echo’s like chiseled stone, crushing down on her groin and abdomen. She couldn’t breathe, and she was certain that no amount of struggling would free her. She closed her eyes and laid there, turning her head away, anguish and torment pulling at her heart and her innocence. She might as well be dead.
    She wished she was.

It's definitely been a minute since I've willed myself to sit down and work on my novel. We can thank Stephen King for that. I bought his book, The Memoir of the Craft, the other day and read it in about two days. In this book, he suggested another book....Writer's Market. When I received this book (I had rented it multiple different times from the library, but always had to return it before I could use it to its full potential.) I opened it up and immediately highlighted all my favorite tips and advice. One that really hit me last night went something like this: "Nobody can make time for my writing but me. That's perhaps the first truth a writer needs to acknowledge. Don't keep hoping someone else will create lovely block of writing time for you. Turn off the TV, limit your Facebook minutes, and go cold turkey on computer games---that's my best advice."

It's very obvious, I know...but it really hit home. I sit here day after day and talk about what I want my life to be. I want to be a writer. I want to work for myself. I want to stay at home when I want and leave the house when I want....being a writer is MY dream, but how will I ever accomplish that by saying "Someday I'll...." Nope, not someday. NOW. The moral of the story is, I opened up my computer today and revised 35 pages of my finished novel. A few months back a great agent had offered to give me constructive criticism....and she did. That's when I got lazy and put the computer away....now I'm taking her advice and I'm making this book fantastic....and it feels SO good to get back into the flow of things. It's fun to remember why I fell in love with writing.

Friends, take this post to heart. You can do anything you set your mind to, no matter how outrageous you or others may think it is. Nothing is impossible, because generally other people have done it before you. Just keep that in mind.

I'll get back to my book though and possibly post some excerpts up on either here or my Facebook site....have a lovely day.

Xx,

Amber

Hello, friends! If you're interested in keeping up with my writing, here's the place to do it. I'll update more later. :)