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Lenore Stutznegger
My journey began with sorrow, depression, and a feeling of helplessness. Uplifting, right? Don’t worry, it gets better, then worse, then better again .
The more I interact with other writers, the more I realize that mine is a story so often seen in the publishing world. Here’s a bit about my journey and how the program WriteMentor helped me along the way!
Surviving a family crisis
Three years ago, my mom had a heart attack. She and my dad lived in Virginia and I lived in Northern California. I couldn’t be there to take care of her. I felt so helpless. Gratefully, my daddy was there, but I felt like there was so much I needed to do. I flew out to Virginia a week later, completely overwhelmed with emotion. I had to take my youngest with me, leaving my husband to take care of the other three.
I worked, cleaned, and made meals for my parents, but my young son had a lot of energy. Like, a lot. Really, really. A lot. My parents lived in this beautiful little neighborhood in Crozet, right in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains. So, my dad, Rocky, and I would venture outdoors and walk the trails every day. We played in the streams and clovers, but all the while my heart continued to break and heal, then break again. My momma was ok. She had a long road ahead of her, but I knew she’d be ok.
Picking up a pen
While there, in the quiet of the night, I wanted to escape into a book—the way I had for years. “Please.” I begged. “Take me away into a world of fantasy and adventure and other people’s crazy insanity so I could escape mine for a while.”
But what I found was that these other books were garbage to me now. They’d skip ahead so fast that I couldn’t care less if the main character died or contracted some horrific disease. In the rush to get readers hooked, character development was non-existent. World-building was brushed over for stabbings and running breathless through some kingdom for who-cared-why. All these publishers wanted was a shiny cover and a quick sell. A book with no heart is no book at all.
As I continued my search, new characters and worlds flew through my mind like a welcoming breeze. I breathed them in as I’d walk along those old Virginia trails. After my week-long soul-excavation, I left my parent’s home and flew back to Cali.
Through the tears of leaving, I wrote out my first chapter. I wrote my characters and motives. I sketched out their world and thoughts and memories. I threw myself into the creative process. I’d always needed the flow—the energy and lift that art gave me though creation. Getting lost in the process. I needed that high, but this time it was through story-telling. I’ve been an artist my whole life, but writing? That was for Stephen King and J.K. Rowling. Their worlds were so complex, and here I was, a total noob.
Read more here.
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