It is a popular belief that as an unpublished or new writer, you should “write what you know”.

But for some of us living the non-typical writer life of fun wholesome living (okay, wholesome is a stretch) this may not be as simple.

I can write about accounting (my day job), which as you can guess would interest absolutely nobody or maybe a small group of number nerds.

I could write about being a mom, but with kids like mine, it is rare to find some excitement other than a lose tooth or a disappointing “B” on a test (and believe me I’m not complaining).

But just as everyone does, I have secrets in my closet. So I open up the closet and push away the cobwebs.
It is filled with events in my life, that feel like a lifetime ago. It feels so distant, like it happened to someone else.

I climb in and dig around the junk looking for a nugget of something that could create an amazing novel. A novel that a reader wouldn’t be able to put down until the last page had been read.

There are a patchwork of things, I pull them out and lay them on the floor and then shuffle them around.

Maybe, just maybe I can weave them together like a quilt more fiction than not.