identity crisis

I love this picture because I wasn’t posing. My son Stuart took it when I was watching my new husband speak about Schrodinger’s Cat at a presentation for his new book The Quantum League. Matt and I had only been married about a month. (Apparently, I hold my hands in weird ways and touch my face when I’m not aware of it.) Once upon a time, I wanted to write novels. It was a mired path coming to that decision—with long distance chats with my mom and sister about finding our passions, hours of watching Oprah, and follow-up calls with my mom and sister about what we had just watched on Oprah. Once I finally settled on writing fiction as what I wanted to do, I put everything I had into it. At first, I trod carefully, like peering from behind the doorway into a crowded room. So I started by trying to find other people who also wanted to write, and as luck would have it (or Providence), I met a nice girl at church. Her name was Julie, and she confessed in one of our first conversations that she had actually been published once, and that she really wanted to be an author. We became fast friends and started working toward our dreams. We went to conferences, joined writing groups, entered contests, bought laptops, flew to England to research our stories, started submitting—well, she did. I was still too scared, and still too ADD to get anything done. Then, one day, when my word count for my book was a decent size but my writing was still very crappy, I was visiting Julie in Salt Lake City. She mentioned how these girls in […]