So, here I am. First post on my new blog in hopes to capture some of you peoples’ attention.

Firstly, I am not a writer. Well, I am in some sense of the word. I write. I enjoy the act of writing, and I spend a good portion of my time with a pen in my hand scribbling down whatever nonsense erupts from my imagination.

Maybe I should say, I am not a professional writer. I don’t write to make a living. I don’t write to make money from selling articles or posting on this blog. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to (I just haven’t gotten there yet).

In truth, ever since I could remember I wanted to be a writer. I dreamed of people reading my novel and was thrilled to hear comments about my work. Of course it wasn’t always like that.

When I was much younger I hated the act of having to write and read. I saw no point and didn’t believe it could change my point of view, or help me in any way. It was only once I was in grade 8 that I took up the challenge.

You see, I’m a stubborn person and at that time a stubborn child. When I didn’t want to do something I wouldn’t do it. I had to choose to do it. And so, this leads back to the quote in the title.

“If you don’t see the book you want on the shelf, write it.”

The books we were forced to read in class were not interesting to me. The books in the library were boring. It actually turned out I didn’t have a learning disability… I actually could read. I could read better than most of the children my age, but there was nothing around me to interest me. Until I happened across the Jean Auel Series. I loved those books, but sadly the last book of the series ended *cough* badly… and so I took the challenge to write a book that had a better ending.

‘How could that be hard? Writing a book is totally easy,” said my teenage brain.

I replaced my obsession with reading that series for a pencil and from that moment on I didn’t stop.

No really I didn’t. I had teachers taking my notebook away from me in classes, and banning me from writing unless it was in regards to class work. My parents even had to check on me to make sure I would sleep and not hide under my covers writing with a flashlight under the sheets…

Grade 8 was the year I gave way to my imagination and created a world that felt as real to me as the keyboard I’m typing on. I could imagine the smell of the forest, the sounds of the birds and the height of the buildings. The world grew with me, along with my characters and their adventures until this year.

This year was the year I decided I would stop writing short stories. Stop writing snippets never to be seen by others. This year I decided I wanted to share my world with others.

If you don’t see the book you want on the shelf, write it.

And that is what I’m going to do.