I’m one of three daughters raised by a mom who loved books. From as far back as I can remember, she read to us, made up bedtime songs, and worked in our hometown libraries. That love of books stayed with me for life.
My sisters and I have other story-related memories too. Our mom would put us to bed at six each evening, even in the summer. The paper-thin curtains did nothing to shut out the light, and we’d lie wide awake, unable to sleep.
As hours passed, our bunk beds transformed into fantastic vehicles that traveled the world. They’d fly, sail, drive, and race in the Grand Prix. We’d win awards, solve mysteries, and embark on the most exciting adventures before finally drifting to sleep. These stories, inspired by Enid Blyton’s Secret Seven, the Famous Five, and my favorite, The Secret of Killimoon, laid the foundation for a lifelong love of story crafting.
I’d love to say I continued writing and found my muse back then, but life got in the way. As a teenager, I was dedicated to dance. As an adult, I married, settled down, and had kids. While I tried to instill a love of books in my own family, I dreamed of finding the time to write.
At the age of ten, I had the most incredible teacher. His love of words would be another incentive for me to write, and to this day, I recall Friday’s as Wordy-Fridays. He’d get us to grab out our exercise books, and out math books. With the exercise books, we’d fold each page four times vertically, and we’d have spelling tests. That would be followed by comprehension tests, and then he’d call out the coordinates for grids which would become crosswords, which we’d complete before home time.
I still remember learning the different witch, and which, the there, their and they’re, or synonyms, acronyms, adjectives, and verbs. Mr White, or old Chalky as we called him, left me with a profound respect for the English language, and today I still find myself looking at certain words and remembering.
So, my writing. I did eventually bounce back to it. But it took nearly thirty years to finally say enough—or actually, for my hubby to say enough – just do it. With our babies now teenagers and young adults, it was the perfect time for me to focus on that lifelong dream.
However, as much as I wrote, I found myself crippled with uncertainty and doubt when it came to letting anyone else read what I’d written. I’d write prolifically, creating draft after draft, but never actually finishing anything.
My husband supported me all the way, doing everything he could to create an environment in which I could work. But it took a trip to Canada and a heart-to-heart with my daughter to make me realize that I needed to finish those edits and get my words out into the world.
And so, here I am: Emmy-Lou James, Author. Nervous as all hell, often riddled with imposter syndrome, but filled with ideas for the wonderful small town of Sweetheart Falls.
I intend to use this blog to document my journey, add snippets about my writing day, craft techniques, publishing experiences, and other aspects of my writer’s journey.
I’ll talk about Cass, my feline writing buddy, who seems intent on sleeping on my keyboard (leading me to get a spare so I can work when she’s in her most pedantic mood). I’ll share updates about my Burley Bakehouse Cozy Mysteries and my endeavours to finally finish my one and only crime thriller. I’ll also recount stories of my travels as I continue to flit between the various places my family now lives.
I hope you enjoy following me, and I’ll try to keep things interesting. In the meantime, if there’s anything you’d like to see on this blog, please fire me an email at emmyloujamesauthor@gmail.com—I’d love to hear from you!
