I didn’t start out intending to become a writer.
As a little girl, I’d gobble up Nancy Drew books until the bathwater turned cold. I remember looking down at the book sitting on the tub’s edge, thinking, ‘I want to do this.’ I didn’t know what “this” was.
- Did I want to be a mystery writer?
- To feel seen?
- To have adventures like Nancy?
- Did I want to be an author? A publisher?
(Not that I could name these as things to “do.”)
What my Soul knew was that one day I’d be known as a Spiritual Librarian. Five decades passed, and that dream faded even though I spent three decades growing up in book publishing.