How
I Became a Writer
By Becky Monson
What compelled me to be an author? I get this question a lot.
Here’s the deal: I never set out to write books. It wasn’t some burning desire in my heart, neither was I lying in bed at night thinking about it.
I decided to write a book in my late twenties. I got a story in my head and it wouldn’t leave me. It kept pestering me and wanting me to write it. This is something I used to make fun of other authors for saying. But I’m here to say it’s real.
I was working a desk job back then and it was the most boring job I’d ever had. Every day I would ask for work, and every day there wasn’t anything for me to do. I was just manning a desk with nothing to occupy my time.
So I thought to myself, I’m going to write this book! And then I’m going to present the book to my boss and say, “See this? This is how bored I’ve been at this job.”
I started writing. I wrote the first chapter probably twenty times, trying to find my voice. I finally found it and the writing started happening. And just as I was hitting my stride, I started getting busy at my desk job, and the writing was put aside.
I tried to write at night, but after working a long day, the words just didn’t come. Then I got pregnant, and I was so sick; the thought of being creative was not there. Once I had a sleeping schedule for my baby, I would start writing again, usually going back to the beginning and continuously tweaking. Then I’d get pregnant again, get sick, and lose my creativity. Lather, rinse, repeat.
After my third—and final—baby was born, my husband took a job in Utah, which took us away from my beloved Orlando. Living in a new town and in the process of meeting new people, I turned back to my old friend. I had half a book done, and pushed myself to finish the rest.
All in all, it took me eight years to write my very first book. It was meant to be a one-and-done sort of thing. I finished that book—Thirty-Two Going on Spinster, published it, and that was it. I mostly finished it to prove to my Type B personality that I could actually complete something (see my basement for all the projects I haven’t finished—it’s a topic I don’t bring up around my hubby … some rough feelings there).
But then something magical happened. It took a bit, but suddenly there was another story that was bothering me. And then another one … and now, eight published books later, I have a list of about thirty story ideas on the notes app on my phone (don’t worry it’s double backed-up), all asking me write them.
So writing may not have been something I set out to do, but it’s definitely here to stay.
Just A Girl by Becky Monson
One thing that can be said about Quinn Pearson is that she has a knack for doing the wrong thing at the wrong time. Like, the worst time ever. Take her job for instance. One little slip of the tongue using the mother of all swear words while reporting the news, and suddenly she finds herself with over 18 million views on YouTube and her employment in jeopardy. If that wasn’t bad enough, when she meets the man of her dreams, she nearly chokes to death on a powdered sugar donut.
Thankfully for Quinn, the dashing Brit, Henry, finds her near death experience quite charming. But just when Quinn thinks her luck is going to change, she finds out her timing is all wrong again. Henry is off limits. Or is he? Maybe it’s time for Quinn to quit settling for what life hands her. Perhaps it's time for her to become more than just a girl.
Website: www.beckymonson.com
Facebook: AuthorBeckyMonson
Twitter: @bmonsonauthor
Instagram: @bmonsonauthor
Media Kit: www.beckymonson.com/media-kit
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