Hard to believe I’ve been writing for nearly 20 years. Back in September 2004 I embarked on a journey to become a creative writer with a degree to hone my skills, to elevate my writing to a publishing-worthy level.

Here I am in 2023 still writing and with 5 books in my kit bag. Right after graduating, ripe with enthusiasm, I tackled my first novel set in post WWII rural England, about a young girl and her family. The story covers three years in Heatherbelle’s and her family’s life, where the reader can share her journey of discovery, challenges, and overcoming.

After I had finished this novel, before even trying to get published, I was off to my next challenge with a memoir called, No Higher Purpose. Both these books have now been professionally edited and are a couple of months away from being ready for publishing, which I plan to do this year.

Never enjoying being idle, these past three years, while editing the first two books, I wrote a young adult science fiction trilogy filled with drama and the unexpected that takes place in the future in a dystopian North American country. I’ll continue to edit and complete those over the next couple of years.

Aside from my passion, writing, I continue to do computer work for one of our son’s businesses and enjoy time with my husband, our wonderful children, and grandchildren.

I recently finished reading a book that had been in my library for a few years. I can’t recall when October Sky turned up as I collect “possible” good literature everywhere I go and from every person I talk to about writing. I remember watching the 1999 film by the same name and finding it an inspiriting story. So, trying to nibble my way through my bookcase, I pulled it out a few weeks back.

In case you don’t know, The Rocket Boys—original title—is Homer H. Hickam’s 1950s true story of his teen years in Coalwood, West Virginia, building homemade rockets after being inspired to help the US space program, since Russia was clearly leading the way.

I was differently inspired—though thwarted by being a woman—to join Britain’s Royal Air Force as a fighter pilot. Post WWII England, our parent’s stories of bombing, and the many people we children heard of who had died in the wars, laid a fertile ground for my romantic dreaming. Why shouldn’t I fly jet fighters? There would be other wars, wouldn’t there? Our homeland needed as many pilots as it could muster. Besides, I knew I’d be a good pilot and with an ultimate dream of going to space, I might as well start by piloting earth-bound craft. The RAF said no. Women didn’t have the necessary strength and stamina! Undaunted, I applied to Imperial College, London, and three years later graduated in aeronautical engineering. I figured being close to aircraft would be better than nothing.

Jump forward fifty some years and imagine me reading about our friend Homer and how he truly did succeed in his rocket building and his dream of working for NASA. Interestingly enough, he’s now a writer, too. His book is a great read and I was inspired all over again. As I closed the last page, I declared,

“That’s it. I’m going to write an inscription in this and give it to our eight-year-old grandson. Some years from now, it will inspire him to follow his passion.”

I turned to the front page and saw an inscription:

“I found the film inspiring and bet the book is even better. Hope this gives you some fun reading, happy experiences, and the rekindling of dreams, & how we follow them. David.” [Circa 2000 gift to our daughter from David, her cousin in England.]

David talks in his inscription about following dreams. Years after he wrote that, he was awarded a PhD in space engineering and now works for the European Space Agency. He was part of the recent Rosetta Project to land an unmanned space vehicle on an asteroid. Like me, he dreamt of a space-related career. Like Homer, he achieved his dream.

May we all, my grandson included, follow our dreams.

Blogging feels like giving the world a peephole through the walls of privacy we normally keep open only to family, friends and allies. Good facts or bad say so little about a life with its underpinnings of pain and joy, dreams and striving. But, here goes. Peep away.

I live in a unique log home that, atop its rocky plateau, eyeballs a highway snaking through granite hills before disappearing out of site. Other windows in this large house show us the plethora of conifers, and the occasional arbutus with their peeling, orange bark, and sadly some scraggly, ugly, Gary oaks that someone decided weren’t just indigenous, but were in many instances protected. Beyond our trees are hills and more hills, the ones from the bathroom so evenly rounded they are reminiscent of a lady’s breasts. Through the deck sliding glass door, on days when cloud is not, across the top of the trees, you can see snow-capped mountains peaks. It is on this lovely backdrop that I gaze as I decide what a character might retort to his antagonist. It is here that I think about writing.

However, if you were to look in the filing cabinet behind my desk or the five storage boxes keeping me company in my spacious office (all rooms in this house are deliciously large which poses a disturbing problem for my husband and me in the inevitable downsizing), you would find evidence of a different life in computers starting long before most people knew what computers were or could do. My computer work has blessed me, satisfied my need to create order, and been a great joy. I like to think that what I created and those who use(d) my systems are blessed and joyful too.

Back in 2004, I decided, sort of out of the blue, to enrol in a local University Arts Department with the intention of completing a degree in creative writing. Our daughter was just wrapping up her own BA, our two boys had been career-bound for some time, so it was time. I continued to consult full time, creatively juggling my hours, my wife-time, my many duties, to accommodate classes. As my second degree, aeronautical engineering being the first, I only needed thirty credits, which allowed me to complete the degree in five years.

When I am not clicking away at the keyboard, I play Lego with the grandchildren, or my husband and I take them for walks in the “big trees”, or by the water. I think I enjoy gardening, and I like to see myself as a gourmet vegetarian cook, though that might be a bit over generous. I do regularly bake my whole-wheat bread and have done ever since a dear friend shared her recipe with me back in the 70’s. I make blackcurrant jam and mango chutney for my husband, marmalade for the kids and recently taught my young grandson to make chocolate ganache. Both my sons, as boys, and my daughter helped me in the kitchen and are now capable cooks. You need to tempt kids early on, I told them, with easy dessert recipes and build from there. Anyone who can cook is empowered. Just like anyone who can write.

So, that’s my opening blog to say hello to you readers. Now you can picture me in my cedar-walled office clicking away on the keyboard, husband in his office tying fishing flies and the grandkids bouncing on the front room play mattresses.

More to come.