My Writing Journey
Although I used to write sappy poems in junior high that my friends used to tape to the walls in the hallways of Charles Street School, I didn’t really catch the writing bug until my kids were little. While pregnant and on bedrest with my second child (hi Ali!), my husband brought a rotating crate of books next to the sofa to read to my son while he went to work. Fortunately (or unfortunately), my not yet two-year old could work the VCR. So in between Barney and The Lion King on an nearly endless loop for four weeks (I know), we read books. Lots of them. I discovered my love for the rhythm of words, colorful pictures, and imaginative storytelling. At least my son would listen to me read more than two different stories. And I was hooked.
After my Barney detox, I started writing children’s stories. I studied the publishing industry in hopes of hitting the publishing jackpot. I started an in-person children’s writing critique group and joined SCBWI, an organization for children’s writers and illustrators. I even started working as a substitute teacher in a childcare center and got lots of material from the little rug rats under my charge. But the traditional publishing industry was and is hard, especially for picture books.
Since my husband and I already had our juggling business, The Juggling Hoffmans, I also went to business events to learn more about marketing. One of the seminars was titled, “How to Write a Book in a Weekend.” My first thought was “bulls#*%!” But I went anyway. Out of that came my first book, The Almost Perfect Birthday Party. It took a lot longer than a weekend, and I needed to learn how to self-publish it to take it across the finish line.
I was already blogging by that point, and I started writing about my self-publishing journey. As one post became ten, I decided to write my second book, The Self-Publishing Roadmap to help writers with the self-publishing journey. At that point, as my kids headed off to college, my entrepreneurial spirit took over. I opened The Happy Self-Publisher in November of 2014 and published Roadmap the same month.
From there, I’ve written and published other books and a couple of journals. Barriers was written on behalf of former U.S. Congressman and interesting character, Tom Evans. I had the opportunity to peek behind the curtain of politics at the highest level, listening to countless stories, reading a copious number of articles, and poring through thousands of pictures of Tom and his political cronies. He was in the inner circle of Presidents Nixon and Reagan and had plenty of political pull until a scandal brought him down. It was a fascinating experience to say the least.
But as exciting as all of the books were to write and publish, none compares to the feeling I got when I published Don’t Touch That, Oscar! I had written Oscar back in 2010-2012. I worked as hard as I have worked on anything, with the exception of juggling and parenting. I edited that manuscript at least 200 times, fine-tuning each page, each word.
So before I had published my first book or started my publishing business, there was Oscar. But Oscar sat on my computer for 10 years. With no hopes of a traditional publishing deal and no desire to fork out the cash needed for an illustrator, my impulsive octopus remained lifeless.
It wasn’t until my business coach asked what I would do if I only had six months to live that I had the courage to breathe life into Oscar. I knew immediately I would regret not taking a chance on him. But really, I was taking a chance on myself.
When I finally got my copy of Don’t Touch That, Oscar!, I wept tears of joy, relief, accomplishment, and badassery. Yes, it cost a lot of money. And I am totally worth it.
I give so much credit for my writing habit to my writing partner, Margie, and unlimited coffee refills at my favorite Panera in downtown Newark. Margie and I first met at a critique group and then kept meeting once a week for a couple of years. For me, once a week turned into twice, and then it was my home away from home.
Imagine my expression as I walked down the street during the pandemic toward my coffee depot, my office, my water cooler, with all of my fellow Panerians, only to find they had shuttered the doors. And they didn’t even give me any notice. I didn’t get to say goodbye to the Wednesday church ladies, the grad student writing her dissertation, the poet with his little notebooks, the importer/exporter, the pair of Newark regulars who did crossword puzzles, or the countless locals who weaved their lives in with my writing life.
Now, I write while watching birds from my back porch, in a cozy corner of my sofa, or any number of places with just enough noise to drown out the chatter in my head. But I still miss the people.
With over 250 blog posts written, plus countless emails crafted to my followers for years, plus the books published and shelved, I’m not sure what’s next for my writing. Like my dad, who started writing at 80 and kept writing every day until his final one at 94, whenever I think there is nothing left to write, I find something else that makes my fingers dance across the keyboard.