The Beginning

When I was younger, I hated reading—like really hated it. I had a difficult time staying focused while reading through a story and sounding out words. My parents would work with me every day, going over flashcards, working on spelling, and reading everything under the sun. But even with all my parents’ efforts, I still struggled with reading. Because of my inability to read, I fell behind my peers and I grew to resent all things related to language arts.

I was classified by my first grade teacher, Mrs. Gustafson, as Not-Reading ready, meaning I was not at a functional level to comprehend and learn literary skills. And I truly wasn't. Mrs. Gustafson said there was nothing wrong with me, that I just needed more time. My parents were distraught with what to do. They could push me through to the next grade level, but I would always be struggling. Or they could hold me back and give me a fighting chance. My parents made the hard decision to hold me back.

I was devastated. I would not be advancing in school with my friends. I would be forced to complete first grade all over again. I was bullied and teased because of a learning impairment that was not my fault. I grew depressed, believing that I had to be stupid just like all my peers said I was, because why else could I not understand what was so easy for all my other classmates?

But I was not stupid. I did well with math, science, history, and many other subjects—my only struggle was with reading and writing. I repeated the first grade, but was still in the lowest reading level. I had to take summer school to help me maintain the little knowledge I had in language arts, as well as my daily routine of practicing reading and writing with my parents.

In the fifth grade, my whole reading world changed. I was still in the lowest reading level of my grade, but I had a teacher that did something that made all the difference—he gave me a choice. Mr. Stanke gave my reading group two novel options, either The Call of the Wild or The Secret Garden. I remember thinking how bizarre and radical it was to choose my own required reading for a class assignment. It was unheard of—teachers gave you the required book to read; options were never given.

All the boys chose The Call of the Wild, but I had no interest in reading a guy book as the boys referred to it. I looked at the second option. The Secret Garden was a BIG book—it was close to fifty pages more than option one and would be by far the longest book I would have read at that time. Something about it made want to pick the bigger book. I was a competitive kid, and I saw the book as a challenge that I would win.

So I picked it, sat down at my desk, and read for the duration of the class. I went home after school and retreated to my room to read some more. I had to dedicate more time to reading in order to keep up with my assignment because I really was a slow reader at that time. Words that I came across that I did not understand, I would look up in the dictionary. Historical references that I had no knowledge of, I would ask my dad about because he was a history teacher. It was important to me that I not only read the book, but understood it.

That was the first novel I read from front to back by myself. And it changed everything for me. I began to challenge myself in all of my language arts classes after that. I became a dedicated and fast reader of all books. I began to excel and surpass my peers. Reading was no longer a problem for me.

By the end of my Freshman year in high school, I asked my English teacher if she thought I was smart enough to advance in the Honors English classes. Miss Hammel said out of all her students, I was the one she had hoped would choose to advance. She signed her consent on the form without hesitation.

Sophomore Honors English at my school was brutal. Lots of kids chose to be taken out of the advance class before the start of the year, some switched at semester to regular English, and some dropped it for the following year if they were lucky enough to survive Sophomore Honors English. There were two teachers who taught it, and of course I got the hardest one. Instead of freaking out, I looked at it like I looked at The Secret Garden—it was a challenge I would win.

Fred Jonas was an incredible English teacher—hard but fair. I was required to read many great American classics and at the end of the year write an argumentative paper based on a character of my choosing from all the works. I did all my assignments dutifully, came in to talk with my teacher if things were unclear, had him read over everything I would write before handing in, and accept every challenge he threw at me. I was in Mr. Jonas’ class so often, I may as well have moved in.

At the end of the year, I handed in my argumentative paper and waited anxiously for my grade. When he handed it back to me, I nearly burst into tears of joy—A-. It wasn't highest grade in the class, but it was far from the lowest. I may have had to work twice as hard as everyone in that class to earn that grade, but I had no regrets. Because of Fred and his constant challenges, I aced every single paper I wrote in high school and college in all subjects.

The man taught me how to write—there are no words to describe how grateful I am to him.

Writing a book and becoming a published author was always a distant dream to me. Yeah, I wanted that, but really, the odds were against me. I may be a very prolific reader and can write a story, but who would ever want to read what I write?

I looked at it as a challenge. I started writing young adult novels and tried going the traditional publishing route, but I was rejected over forty times by over forty different publishing companies. Too long, too wordy, too different—basically, too fucking bad.

It crushed me and my dreams of becoming a published author were put on the shelf. I resigned myself to my production chemist job and decided I must not be good enough to be an author. And I continued to feel that way for over ten years.

So what changed? Not a whole lot other than I decided to go the self-publishing route this time around, and I slapped myself figuratively any time negativity tried to creep into my mind.

I was looking for stress relief and decided to go back to the third book I had written. I was making changes to it when my husband suggested that I really should try to self-publish my novels. Like any good chemist, I decided to do my qualitative and quantitative research and gather data on what books do well in the self-publishing world. Romance writing seemed to be the heavy hitter.

Problem was, I was not a romance writer—I wrote young adult. I had never even read a romance novel at this point. Would I like romance novels? Could I even write a romance novel?

Only one way to find out. I needed to do my research.

I got myself Kindle Unlimited and started reading romance novels. I probably read over a hundred romance novels, in various romance categories, within a month. To my delight, I loved romance, and equally as important was that I felt I could write a romance novel. I knew I enjoyed contemporary erotic romance with strong alphas male characters and equally as strong-willed female characters. The plot came easy to me. I sat my ass down and within a month, Josephine and Maceo’s love journey began with my first novel.

The self-publishing route has presented challenges, but I tackle those as I go. I learned a lot through my editor about how to make my writing and story better. I learned a lot from the several authors I reached out to for direction. I learned how to format my own books, copyright, set up social media accounts for my readers, marketing ads, etc.

Basically, I am learning a lot—all the time.

But as I think back over all the challenges I have overcome, from the sad not-reading ready six year old I was, to the self-published author I am today, I would not change a thing—well, maybe I would have changed how long it took me to finally take the leap into self-publishing, but overall, I still am pleased with the results.

If I have anyone to thank for molding me into who I am today as a writer, it would be all those I mentioned above—my parents, Holly Gustafson, Jerry Stanke, Maddie Hammel, Fred Jonas, and my husband. They pushed and challenged me, and yes, I am still competitive and will do my damnedest to win at any challenge.

To think my beginning started with a book...

#reading #writing #lessons