Well, they’re in the process of coming true. Three years ago this week, I started writing a novel. Considering I lack in the patience department, I
never seriously thought I would finish writing the story. At the time I needed a cathartic outlet and I had always dreamt of writing a full-length novel. Seeing my name in print on a book cover was literally a childhood dream of mine.
Wanting to read a story that blended my favorite themes of romance, history, mythology, travel, and the supernatural, I figured I’d give it a shot and write one myself. Three months later, my baby was complete. Of course, things are never easy and editing it took two years and nine months. Today, the story is in the publisher’s hands and will hopefully be in readers’ hands in the next couple of months!
Dream number two goes hand-in-hand with the story, only it is a much more personal accomplishment. In October 2008, I was struggling with personal issues, not the least of which was my weight. I was not blessed with miracle genes like other moms and after my second pregnancy, the seven pounds I lost post-birth, I regained. I had no energy. I couldn’t keep up with my kids. I couldn’t breathe. My spark was gone. After I began writing, I felt some life come back to me. The old, go-getter “Andrea” started to work her way into my conscience. I figured if writing was making me feel better, getting back into shape would help too. Not that I expected to be able to remold myself into the pre-pregnancy form I once had, but I missed the ballerina / cheerleader body of my youth. I set three weight milestones for myself and set out to lose weight my way.
Diets and impossible exercise routines never worked for me. I would inevitably stick with it for a month or so but gradually stopped denying myself the foods I craved and working out. This time was different. I was determined that I wasn’t going to diet. I was going to eat right and that meant making better choices every day and allowing myself a glass of wine, pizza, cheesesteaks, and desserts on the weekends. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t go overboard, but knowing that I was able to enjoy the not-so-good-for-you foods motivated me to work out more. It was a matter of creating balance.
Two years, eleven months, and three weeks after I started to reclaim my health, I’m proud to say 
that I reached my third tier weight goal! Twelve dress sizes smaller and defined muscles from head-to-toe—yeah, I can confidently say that I’m happy, healthy, and proud. It’s such a sense of triumph, because there was more than one occasion on which I wanted to throw in the towel. However, along the way, I learned something about myself. Weight is just a number. I needed to be healthy. Today, I can outrun my kids and keep up with them throughout the day. I’m no longer parenting from the couch, feeling depressed about the extra weight dragging me down. I’m racing with them, playing catch with them, and still have enough energy to feel like I can take on the world after they’ve gone to bed.
The most important lesson I learned over the past three years was that all I had to do to make my dreams come true was to believe in myself. I couldn’t depend on or expect someone else to motivate me or pick up my broken pieces of shattered dreams. The opportunities were always right in front of me; I just needed to want it enough to make them happen.
What do you want to achieve? It’s never too late to go for it and even if obstacles get in your way, step around them. You can make your dreams come true!Images:
1) A teaser look at the logo for my novel, "Eternity." Logo designed by Debra Early.
2) The "me" of today
My baby. My dreams. The product of personal, spiritual, and intellectual growth over the past 15 years."Eternity is not Enough" (aka EINE) is my dream come true. 
I always wanted to write a book and although it is currently unpublished, EINE represents a personal accomplishment I certainly never thought possible with a full time job, two kids and the myriad of other responsibilities chasing me through the day.Though this is embarassing to admit, I stopped reading fiction years ago primarily because I lacked the time. However, I was also envious of the writers whose witty prose was intellectually stimulating, the authors who were able to create a believable world of fantasy, and those whose published works should've been stored in the circular file instead of wasting shelf space. So, I've spent the past decade hiding behind non-fiction. I occasionally crawled out of the history and new age literature hole to read a few books which reminded me of the mysterious, paranormal, and suspenseful young adult novels and authors of my youth--Agatha Christie, Edgar Allan Poe, Carolyn Keene, R.L. Stine, Christopher Pike, et al.Last September, a dear friend of mine insisted I read the "Twilight" series by Stephenie Meyer. Considering it was both popular and fictional, it had two strikes against it. Very reluctantly, I pried open the book's hardcover, sighing at the futile promise I made to my friend. How was I going to get through the torture about to take place? I suffered through the first chapter and then somewhere in the middle of chapter two I fell in love with Edward Cullen.The formula of Meyer's flawed protagonists, who happen to be star-crossed lovers set against the world of vampires and werewolves, exploded successfully. I devoured all four books of the series and her unfinished fifth manuscript in five days. I barely slept. I barely ate. I HAD to know what happened to my fictional love, Edward.And then, as I read the last line of "Midnight Sun," anger percolated in my veins. I craved more. I wanted to know more about Bella and Edward's worlds. The anger quickly turned into an all too familiar and overwhelming emotion.Jealousy. I wasn't envious of Meyer's success. I envied her ability to capture an idea and just write it down.I'd been dying to write a vampire novel since high school. I had started and stopped so many stories over the years that I just dismissed my writing ambition as yet another passion I'd want for a day and then abandon because it was overwhelming.But what if this time I actually wrote something? The thought floated in my mind for a couple of hours as I wondered where to start. Amidst the playful screams of my rowdy kids, an old, nagging nightmare popped into my consciousness. This fearsome childhood dream became the story's cornerstone.By the time my husband got home from work, I had gone from working mom and housewife to aspiring novelist. He listend to my plan patiently, nodding in all the right places, questioning the logistics of time and family commitments. By the end of my sales pitch, he was hooked.Three months later, EINE was complete. The proverbial blood, sweat, and tears poured from its pages. I did it!As I began my hunt for agents and publishers, I discovered that at about 227,000 words, my baby was about 130,000 words too long for a first-time novel. I trimmed about 57,000 words, but it's still over the industry's standards. Needless to say, this hurdle alone makes it nearly unpublishable.Where does this leave EINE? Paranormal plots have always had a strong following, and I do believe my novel is commercially viable. So I'm continuing my search for a publisher.As much as I want to publish the work (and I won't give up until I figure out a way), I'm just happy I set my mind to something and made it happen. Finally.Click here for more information about "Eternity is not Enough."
never seriously thought I would finish writing the story. At the time I needed a cathartic outlet and I had always dreamt of writing a full-length novel. Seeing my name in print on a book cover was literally a childhood dream of mine.
that I reached my third tier weight goal! Twelve dress sizes smaller and defined muscles from head-to-toe—yeah, I can confidently say that I’m happy, healthy, and proud. It’s such a sense of triumph, because there was more than one occasion on which I wanted to throw in the towel. However, along the way, I learned something about myself. Weight is just a number. I needed to be healthy. Today, I can outrun my kids and keep up with them throughout the day. I’m no longer parenting from the couch, feeling depressed about the extra weight dragging me down. I’m racing with them, playing catch with them, and still have enough energy to feel like I can take on the world after they’ve gone to bed.
