Several years ago, I started formulating a fiction for tweens, Belle in the Slouch Hat. It is just a story about a young girl who searches for revenge after her brother was killed in the Civil War. I consciously started the story for my grandchildren; and I needed something to fill an emptiness in me because of the losing my beloved mother, and another special woman in my life. They died within two months of one another.
Every time someone we love dies, we have to grieve; there is no way to avoid it. Everyone must move through the sorrow and agony in their own way. My course of action was writing.
Following the loss of those I dearly loved, it felt almost like something was obstructing my suffering and shielding me from the cruelty and sadness that comes with death. To this day, I believe ıt had been the Holy Spirit helping me through the single most hardship in my life. You many determine to call it different things, but I believe it was the Holy Spirit. Immediately after that, the reality of the deaths set in and I had no choice but to undergo the next phase of losing someone you love, the grieving process.
At the age of sixty-one, I sat at my computer; I began to craft, and I began to get well. I began writing a novel minus the full comprehension of what I was stepping into. I didn’t stop to think about the amount of hours which I would so willingly give to it, nor did I stop to think there was a correct way of doing it, all I know was I had to write. Sometimes it was down-right physically, mentally, and emotionally painful; other times, I felt drained of every once of energy in my body. Occasionally, my sense of meaning and my most treasured beliefs about life were challenged.
There was hardly any schedule for when I needed to finish; and no one could influence to me when it could be finished. It required a long time; not just a day, not only a month, not just one year, but two full years.
Excluding the primary three pages of my book, I didn’t produce an order, or a plot ot follow, I just wanted to write. I even built a imaginary barrier around me and didn’t want anyone to find out what exactly I was writing, except my better half.
The more I wrote, the greater I wanted to create. Writing provided an outlet to cry, to laugh, and have a journey. Unconsciously, I had shaped my very own support group with the individuals inside my story. For me, it had become a secure place to express my ideas and work through my sadness. I also found a means for me to remember those I loved.
Drop by “Belle in the Slouch Hat” to learn more available on recommended fiction for tweens. To get help with methods to SEO management you need to visit Clickadvantage.
