The discovery began when I opened a children's short story that I began over a year ago but never finished. I sat down to revise it and then just kept writing until the ending came. After that first moment the ideas just started flowing. Stories about immigrant children, stories about tropical fruits and their origins, stories about culture and family, friendships and fears. Stories based on my real life and those of my cousins and siblings. I enjoy this type of writing even more than poetry because it doesn't need to be pretentious or complicated. While my words and the ideas are complex, the story is simple and I know the will mean something to this special population that I adore.
The FaceBook challenge that I embarked on a week ago helped spur even more ideas and I just can't stop writing and thinking. It's great, I haven't felt this much passion and excitement about anything in awhile. I know in my heart of hearts that this is what I was meant to do (even if just for now- I believe we live our lives in phases and my dreams may change but this is what I want and need to do right now).
There is something deep inside me that tells me this is going to work out, and that I WILL get published. I'm super excited about the possibilities and know that all will go well.
Recently I have thought that perhaps these children's books are a mere distraction from the "real" project I am avoiding (the memoir about my diagnoses) but this kind of writing fulfills me and makes me happy. Perhaps I am not ready to face the daunting task of putting the last three years into words and metaphors for the rest of the world to judge but hiding behind cafeteria tales and sibling rivalries in order to help inspire young readers doesn't seem like such a bad bargain.
Maybe after a good run at the world of children's literature I'll be ready to tackle my inner demons, but for now I will continue to find inspiration in my cousin's pig tails and the mystery behind coconut milk.