Throughout my lifetime books have been there for me, even when people weren’t. They were my companions when I was a young girl, friendless and moving from town to town. They’ve been an escape when life was hard and I needed reprieve. They’ve given me the foothold I needed to rise above poverty and ignorance.
My love affair with the written word began almost from infancy. I thank my mom for that. She was young and uneducated, but she loved reading and always made sure I had books. I remember as a teenager, she once told me, “If you ever want a book, tell me and I’ll find a way to get it for you. I don’t care how broke we are. Reading is a priority.” And of course, I spent countless hours in public libraries during my childhood. A couple of years ago, I even took a pilgrimage to a modest library in a tiny Texas town that I credit with saving my life when I was eight.
I’ve always dreamed of writing a book. I made several attempts over the years, but life had other things in store for me. After graduating from high school, I worked tirelessly, often holding multiple jobs at a time, to support myself. I never had an opportunity to go to college. In my mid-20s, I settled down, got married, had twins, and continued to work multiple jobs to make ends meet. I gave up on my dream of writing and even gave up reading altogether for almost a decade.
Then, three years ago, I went on a vacation with my husband to Montreal. It was the lowest point in my adult life. I was on the brink of a nervous breakdown that came the following spring. Whilst in Montreal, I stumbled into a charming used book store and picked up three books that essentially rekindled my passion for reading and writing.
How can I describe the joy? It felt like I’d found something precious that I’d lost long ago, as if I were coming home.
Today, I hold in my hand a proof copy of my debut novel. This is, quite literally, a dream come true – and I did it. I made my dream come true. Even after all these years. Even after I thought the dream was dead and buried. I did it, with the loving support of my family, friends, and creative partners.
Writing a novel is possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was, of course, intellectually challenging. Come to find out, you don’t magically become a great writer just because you read a lot. Skills need to be developed and honed. But there were also emotional hurdles and insecurities the size of mountains that had to be crossed. Tears were shed. Many times I thought I wasn’t going to make it.
Yet, here we are.
While it’s not ‘perfect,’ and while I still have much to learn about the art and craft of being a novelist, I’m pausing today to revel in my accomplishment. For the first time in my life, I am proud of myself. Finishing is the hardest thing, and this book is finished.
If you’re a person with the same dream, know this: you can do it. The opportunity might not come for a very long time. I was fifty. But when it does come, find your motivation. Surround yourself with people who will encourage you and provide feedback that helps you improve. Make time to write, and guard it viciously. Forget about writing what anyone else might like and write for yourself. Do it for the love of reading. Do it for the pleasure of putting words on paper and watching them come alive.
Do it for the thrill of holding your first copy of your first book in your hands.
The Whole Enchilada will be available in print and electronic versions November 1, 2025. To stay updated on my book launch and other projects and events, sign up for my author newsletter.
p.s. I’ve already starting work on my next novel.