I started writing my first book almost fourteen years ago. It's strange to think about the thrill and enthusiasm I had for writing then. It was my whole life, and if I could just get published, all would be right with the world. I sold my first book two years later, and it was published nearly two years after that.

Back then, I was so involved with my budding, almost non-existent, writing career that I did everything possible to promote myself—despite there being almost nothing to promote. I had press kits for a book that wasn't coming out for a year and a half, business cards, letterhead, writing groups out the wazoo and as many books and resources as I could find.

Although I continued to sell, my enthusiasm slowly waned over the years. Life always gets in the way, and writing couldn't continue to be my whole life. But, it never left me either. I know I'm a true writer because my soul isn't at peace without a new idea for a story or character. And sometimes, when I allow myself to let go, magic happens and I'm able to do the story justice.

Now that I've published several books and have gotten married, my priorities are different, and I miss the untainted enthusiasm I once had. But, after several years of my love/hate relationship with writing, I'm starting to get my second wind. I've started to participate in my writing community, to buy business cards and letterhead and to collect resources again. I have never been short on ideas, but I'm regaining my interest in the business of writing, which can be so important in planning a long-term career.