First steps in the fog

Starting this blog is like stepping onto a rickety bridge in a fog.  You know there’s a safe way across the river, but there are also broken and loose planks.  Can you make it?  I decided to write when I realized all the stories I had flying around in my mind were bumping into each other and had to leave.  So I learned and wrote and rewrote and rewrote and then some more.  Finally I collected rejection e-mails.  Then come the rejection that wasn’t.  Suddenly, instead of seeing a bridge across that rejection river, all I could see was fog.  The same imagination that spun the yarns, poked holes in the bridge.

“This is stupid, I’ve never done this before, (duh) I’ll make mistakes, (really?) I’ll botch the whole thing and everybody will hate me (nah, not everybody, just love story readers).”  Of course you’ve never thought anything like that, right?

Then I pulled out the fog-lights and even a couple of fans.  First, I signed up for this how-to-write-a-blog class so I could learn and all I did was accumulate each day’s lessons.  So, I got my “round-tuit” fog light and clicked on day one.  Then my “you can read” light illuminated the tools and tips section.  Finally, my writer’s block curing fans of “put seat in seat” and “move fingers” showed me more intact planks than holey ones.

So, besides a ‘fraidy cat who prefers dry feet, who am I?  My name is Nola Stam, I am a Special Duty Nurse working with medically fragile children who need nursing care at school.  I grew up in a small farming town in Southeastern Idaho where there are plenty of bridges, sound and rickety, spanning the Snake River.  I live in Kearns, Utah with my husband Ron, daughter Evelyn and Jack Russel Terrier mix Spud.  (Well, when he was a puppy, he resembled an Idaho potato, fuzzy with legs, yeah, and he loved potato salad.)

Standing on the other side of the river is my kid sis, Norma Jean Morris, who shared the “not a rejection” for our short story collection, “Aspects of Love”.  She’s likely been there for a while patiently waiting for me to clear my foggy brain and come across.

Starting this was like stepping onto the bridge, so I guess finishing it is like stepping off.  Ahead is a new country, new paths to hike, new hills to view the landscape from the tops and yes, new pits to fall in.  But, everywhere are new stories, flying around, perching on limbs and rocks, waiting to be caught.  Guess I better kick a couple more out of my mind so there’s room.

One thought on “First steps in the fog”

  1. Love this! So excited to read more. Can’t wait to see whats waiting to cross that bridge. Your a great writer who is very wise and thoughtful who leads me along and makes me want to see what happens next. Love your analogies. May there be no pits and lots of limbs to catch you just in case. Love you too! Keep up the good work!

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