I wrote my first piece of fiction the summer I was ten (I think). It was a story about a young, bored girl who, despite an otherwise happy childhood, runs away to join a circus. It wasn’t a very long story since I couldn’t decide if my heroine was going to be a bareback rider or aerialist, but I did know she would wear one of those sparkly, sequined leotards and tights-pink, or maybe purple. I also had no idea how to develop a plot or describe characters.
My teen years weren’t particularly remarkable. I wasn’t rebellious, well, maybe a little. Fast forward to adulthood. I graduated from the University of Michigan with a BS in physical therapy and I immediately specialized in pediatrics. A few years (and a marriage) later, I left Michigan for graduate school at the University of North Carolina and on completion, joined the faculty there. During these years, both as a clinician and an assistant professor, I wrote a lot of nonfiction, you know, case reports and academic writing, that sort of thing. Okay, maybe academic writing does require a bit of fiction.
I married twice. The first one didn’t stick and should be classified as fiction; young, naïve physical therapist marries a soon-to-be doctor. However, the reality of being left without notice by a man I supported through medical school did give me experience in anger, depression, and loss of self-worth. Not my best years, but I learned a valuable lesson, there are things in life for which you will never have an answer and there is nothing to be gained by wallowing in the ‘why me’?
My second marriage made up for anything I lost in the first round. I married a loving, but restless man. While we never joined a circus, there have been many adventures, and it has been a grand success. We are still married after 45 years. During these years, we raised six children, three were part of the marriage, and a family of three we adopted. We moved several times, living in Paris for five years and spent as much time as possible on our sailboat in the Bahamas and Caribbean. We even boat-schooled our youngest two sons on our Camper and Nicholson 40.
Throughout this we were both working, having left the university system to start and run a business, manufacturing mobility products for children with neuromuscular impairments. I’m proud to say those products have improved the lives of many children and their families. The walker we invented, designed, and manufactured, continues to sell around the world.
We developed a second hobby—sailing being the first—vintage car rallies. As part of these rallies, we have traveled on back roads through Africa, South America, and seven times on various roads across North America, including Canada. One trip included the Dawson Highway, a stretch of dirt, mud, and gravel, to the Arctic Circle in Alaska. Someone had a sense of humor when they dubbed this a highway.
Then, there was the around-the-world rally, west from NY, ending in Paris. That adventure included China, Siberia, Russia, Mongolia, and seven countries in Eastern and Western Europe. Did I mention driving on back roads? This circumnavigation became the basis for the novel Ed and I co-authored. The Long Road to Paris.
Writing that book led both of us to realize we aren’t capable of creating alternative universes. I am in awe of those who can. Our writing is (loosely) based on our personal experiences. Fortunately, we have many to draw on. We also learned how little we like marketing, and as discouraging as the process of querying agents and publishers can be, we won’t self-publish again.
Now to Uncharted. This story was created by the two of us, I admit, even though it is published under my name. The setting, characters, and plot draw on our many years sailing the Bahamas mixed in with a shady period in the history of these islands. That more or less brings you up-to-date. Together, we are working on a sequel to Uncharted. It will be a while until it is even a completed manuscript, but we are hopeful and enjoying this writing thing. Our next rally will be Cuba if this Covid virus ever goes away.