“Writers aren’t people exactly. Or, if they’re any good, they’re a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person.”–F. Scott Fitzgerald

I remember when I was a teenager, I thought to myself that no one really knew who I was.  In true teenage form, I pretended to be who my friends wanted me to be.  I was the sweet one, the understanding one, the one who never rocked the boat.  It wasn’t who I truly was, it was just what the group needed.  Even now, many years beyond my teens, I’m different people.  At work, I’m the responsible one, the one that never says “I don’t have time.”  To my family, I’m the problem solver, the one who always has a solution in times of trouble.  If you ask my sons, they will say I’m the mean one, the one who over-reacts when we wait too long to get seated at a restaurant.  Sorry, but I thought two hours was an excessive amount of time to wait.  I didn’t yell, I just expressed my displeasure.  There are few people who know who I really am; sometimes I even forget who I really am.  Writing brings you back to yourself, though.  Writing has a beautiful way of emptying your mind of all of the noise and focusing on the new world in which you want to live for the next three months.  Fitzgerald was right.  We are a whole lot of people.  Sometimes I’m brave like Amy (Wait for Me).  Sometimes I make really bad decisions like Grace (Saved by Grace).  Sometimes I want to stick my head in the sand like Ellie (Second Chance).  All of those women in my books are me and I’m those women.  I’m in the middle of a life transition right now.  We’re packing up our house in the Midwest and moving to Florida.  My parents need me and as a friend said, it’s a nice thing that they live in Florida and not North Dakota!  My writing is on hold but in a few months (if the real estate market is kind) I should be back at the keyboard while watching the sun set over the Gulf.  I don’t have the main character figured out yet because I don’t know who I’ll be in the Spring.   I’m looking forward to finding out.