Confessions

I have a confession to make:

I want to be a writer.

There I said it.

I want to be a writer. 

Just about everyone has heard my story about wanting to become an elementary school librarian at the age of eleven. Few people have heard me admit to the writing aspirations that emerged at a similar age.

I have wanted to write and publish stories poems dramas novels memoirs essays everything since Andrew Clement's The School Story. After reading this story about a twelve year old girl who publishes a book, I started dreaming about publishing my own novel.

My first attempt at a novel will be forever archived in a dirty and worn envelope at the bottom of my writing box. My second attempt at a novel.. well, let's just say it's been recently unearthed and shared.

But why haven't I pursued this dream, as I have pursued my library career? 

(And why do I continue to write rhetorical questions to myself, and you dearest readers, when they are so obviously silly and unnecessary?) 

Because I never considered writing as a practical career option. Only a dream. Librarianship is safe. Practical. Included health care and a steady income. Writing is dangerous and difficult. 

(Because rhetorical questions are a guilty pleasure.)

So here I am. A candidate for an MLIS with a blog and a head full of stories and ideas. A twenty-something going through a quarter life identity crisis. An unchosen fate--UnCalebreth Faatuni, just like the hero of my fantasy novel (see below).

And, a writer who is now going to pursue writing alongside of librarianship.

_____________________________

The Prophesied 

by Lois Haight (written between ages 12-16)

Prologue:

A Marking Ceremony

There she was, a girl about five feet, five inches tall, green eyes, and dark brown hair. She stood on the Stool of Marks where she would hopefully get her only three marks. Crowds of people were there to watch her because the Marking Ceremony was a popular event. A boy out in the crowd, who looked to be the same age as the girl, waved at her. She smiled meekly back. The eldest of the Wisers proclaimed, "Let the marking begin" 

A bright light flashed and a gold circle, marking the gift of music, appeared on her hand. Soon after, a blue lightning bolt, marking the skill of magic, appeared on her hand. The lightning bolt was then followed by a light green line, which shows goodness. Assuming the markings were done, the eldest Wiser said, "We shall call…" He stopped. Something else was appearing on the girl's hand.

Next to the light green line, a blood red X was appearing. Everyone gasped. "So," said one of the Wisers, "the prophecy has become true. The marks of the gift of music, the skill of magic, the sign of goodness, and the sign of evilness, all on the same hand."

Seeing as the prologue is so enthralling, continue reading the beginning of my thrilling YA fantasy novel here: The Prophesied