One would think that by the time we reach our fifties, our abilities and hidden talents would have already become apparent.  Well that may be true for many, but it wasn’t true in my case.  What is odd is that before it happened to me, I had always looked upon the talent that suddenly sprung from my being as boring; one of life’s dreaded, occasional necessities.  Surprisingly for me, that prior task has now become my passion.  That passion is writing.

It all started when I decided to pen my memoir.  The decision to write a book was based on the whisperings of my inner voice, not from the love of writing.  I didn’t know how I would execute my plan, I just felt that I had to do it.  I gradually navigated the uncharted waters of authorship, learning through trial and error as I went along.  Before long I was smitten with the craft and diligently working on my manuscript eight or more hours each day, seven days a week.

The “push” that drove me to become a writer and to tell my story started with the urging of others.  I heard the comment, “You really should write a book,” more times than I could count from those who met me and were intrigued by my story.  Life itself being a fascinating story, many of us have been told that.  So why was I so compelled to act on it, to take on the challenge?

The truth is that I wanted to give a voice to the loved ones in my life whom, for various reasons, could never speak their deepest thoughts for themselves.  I wanted to salute all the unsung, sometimes tragic, heroes that have dramatically affected the outcome of my life.  I wanted my daughter to know the story of the early years of her life.  And I wanted to expose my trials and tribulations to others with the intention of offering them hope for a brighter tomorrow.  These were my intentions when I began the manuscript of Fine…ly.  I didn’t know that there was so much more to it.

As I went along with my writing, I began to discover that the words were not always my own.  They often came through me as if I was channeling from another source.  And as I learned to trust that source, I began asking for help in “filling in the blanks.”  The answers always came.  Once I was half-way through telling my story, mysterious, paranormal experiences started happening.  It became obvious to me that I was definitely not alone in this endeavor.  I suspected, and before long came to the realization, that my book was divinely inspired; apparently I was chosen as the vessel that would bring this project to fruition.  It was hard to deny that there were greater purposes for sharing my story, perhaps even for the life experiences I’d been given, than I could ever fully comprehend.  There had to be a plan.

As I was nearing the end of the first draft of my manuscript there was an occurrence in my life, one that can only be described as miraculous.  This brought long overdue closure for me (thirty years to be exact), and the perfect timing of this miracle allowed me to add it as a surprise ending to my book.  Now I had even more confirmation that this book was meant to be.

After two years of writing, editing, and revising, Fine…ly was published in October 2010.  Since then I am learning that my book is impacting its readers in profound and healing ways.  I have heard the same statement over and over, “I am not getting enough sleep, I can’t put your book down!”  Even my own family has experienced an unanticipated healing that would not have been possible without the publishing of  Fine…ly.

It has been, and continues to be, an amazing experience for me.  I don’t know what’s in store for me or my book, but the mystery certainly makes life exciting! 

New Memoir Fine...ly: My Story of Hope, Love, and Destiny 

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