When my first byline was published, it was in the Chattanooga Times prior to its merging with the Chattanooga Free Press, and I was sixteen years old. I knew I wanted to be a writer early on, but it wasn’t until I saw my byline that I realized how strong and serious that desire was.
Fast forward 23 years and I still marvel at my name in print. It is not vanity. Rather, it is incontrovertible evidence that hard work can result in accomplished goals.
Today my goals have shifted slightly. While I continue to write features for print and online magazines, I press on with writing fiction and hope to be recognized for those efforts before I die.
Seriously. That’s my only goal. Sometime before I die.
Anyway, part of branching out towards that effort is building a cadre of literary recognition, and to do that, I need to be writing unassigned stories and essays and submitting them wherever possible. This opens me up to more rejection, but WHAT ELSE IS NEW?
At the end of the summer, on a whim, I submitted a nonfiction piece about our infertility experience and subsequent first adoption to a new online literary journal written by women for women. It was accepted and the piece posted this week.
“The Theft and Recovery of Hope” begins with one of the most heart-wrenching moments of our infertility journey. It was Mother’s Day, and the pastor asked all the mothers, grandmothers, and mothers-to-be to stand and be applauded. Unable to stand, I sat and stewed.
No worries, though. Our story has a happy ending.
Please enjoy “The Theft and Recovery of Hope,” and do take time to explore other essays and bits of poetry featured in The Same.
