“God-or whoever is in charge of this planet- got drunk on the job one day and decided to give me the gift of writing. The way I see it, I have two choices. I can set that gift high on a shelf so it won’t get dinged up and nobody can make fun of me for playing with it.” He smiled until the crinkles at the corner of his eyes were deep enough to hide state secrets. “Or, I can have fun with it and play with the gift I was given until the engine burns out and the wheels come off. I decided to play. I suggest you do the same, young man. Go paint or draw or collage or whatever you want to do. Come back when there’s smoke coming off the canvas. And for God’s sake, go have some fun. Please?” – Shaffer, 2023 P. 78
I am so. Damn. Proud. Of myself.
I have written, since I could.
Diaries with useless locks and keys.
Journals considered my closest confidant.
“Dear Journal, You are the only one I can talk to.”
Everyone wanted to be Carrie but I knew, I already was Carrie.
It took one high school teacher mentioning, “You are a gifted writer.”
And over a decade later, a neighbor suggesting, “You should start a blog.”
For me to start a blog.
How will I ever properly thank them for the journey they have encouraged me to record?
I keep writing, that’s how.
I play with the gift I was given until there’s smoke coming off my paper.
A job as a scriptwriter with Dreamworks Entertainment.
That is where I was headed the Summer of 2005.
I had the roommate, the apartment and the moving van ready to go.
And then I pulled the plug two weeks before I was due to leave.
Was it the boy from Jersey that I was in love with?
Was it cold feet?
Or was it intuition?
They say hindsight is 20/20.
But here’s what I know.
I ended up moving in with a family of four children.
I enjoyed helping the first grader learn how to read and after moving back to my hometown, decided to shadow a teacher to see if it would be a good fit for me.
I ended up getting a Masters in Elementary Education Pk-6 and later, using it to homeschool my own children.
And lookie-here.
I’m still writing.
Maybe not moving to Cali was a mistake.
Maybe I’d be rich and famous!
But I’d like to think that I’ve always had a keen sense of self.
The ability to get quiet and listen.
And what I heard back then was, “Don’t go.”
As a result, I met my husband. I had these four beautiful daughters. I became a teacher and remained a writer.
Perhaps the best stories in life aren’t fiction, but our very own.
Life speaks.
Me as “Sissy” in Come Back to the Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean Jimmy Dean , 2000
That’s where I was headed in 2005, with a roommate I’d spoken with for months over AOL but had never actually met in person. We had the lease to our apartment and I had a lead to a job as a script-writer with Dreamworks Studio.
Instead, I pulled the plug two weeks before I was set to move.
It remains to be, the road not taken for me.
In place of California. I lingered on the East Coast taking a room with a family of 6. In exchange for room and board, I provided care for the kids. As the youngest of 8, I had never had 4 younger “siblings” before and was terrified. Quickly, I adapted, finding myself taking particular interest in that first grader mastering reading.
I read the book What Color is Your Parachute by Richard Nelson Bolles and shockingly wondered if he could be right- were the childhood games I played as a teacher my destiny? Had I known and denied all along?
I moved back to my hometown in my own blissful, 1-bedroom apartment, and volunteered in the fourth grade classroom at my tiny, private elementary school, just to see if it was worth pursuing.
And, oh, it was.
I. Came. Alive.
Yes, this is where I was meant to be all along.
Until I had my own four children and stayed home to care for them. I quit my job as teacher and became Mama.
I started my own blog to continue my pursuit of writing.
It’s difficult to describe the moment you realize you’re on the right track.
And that moment came to me today, when I very matter-of-factly explained to my 7 year-old that in addition to becoming an inventor, fashion designer and mommy, she could also be a writer because, didn’t she know that besides her own mother, my parents had each written a book?
I retrieved them from our library and set them next to one another.
New Leaf Parenting 