The Book

I’m Writing My First Book

Today I start.

One chapter a day. That’s the promise I made to myself. 5AM. Get up. Get dressed. Get in the Word. Then write.

I don’t know if it will be good enough to be published. But it will be honest enough to be real.

I hope to write for the young person. The shy girl I was — the one who found it easier to write to pen friends than make friends in person. The one who barely graduated because math wasn’t her strongest subject, but who showed up, did her best, and continued. The one who learned differently and needed more time to develop.

I hope to write so a 13-year-old can understand it. Not big words to impress. True words to connect. Because there are writers that write for the tower, and there are writers that write for the shelter. I’m writing for the shelter. I’m writing for the kid from a poor community who thinks they’re hopeless when they’re really just developing.

My life has been a journey. From small town Northern California to middle class schools because my mother got me out. From Safeway courtesy clerk to housed. From shelter curfew to keys in my hand. From silence to Toastmasters. From the dark stages of the cocoon to finally being on my own.

Writing saved me. School saved me. My mother saved me.

And writing is something that I love. Writing.

It’s how I explained myself when my voice shook. It’s how I connected through Global Teen Club when I thought I was small and the world was large. It’s how I survived the awkward years. It’s how I’m rebuilding now.

So one chapter a day. No excuses. No waiting for perfect. Just discipline. Just obedience. Just faith that if God put the story in me, He’ll make a way for it to get out.

I don’t know who needs this book yet. But I know I needed it when I was young.

So I’ll write it for her.

And maybe she’ll read it and know she’s not alone.

And maybe she’ll rise too.

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