Pinnacle!
My book has been published.
I used to secretly daydream about becoming an author, touching people with my words, and going on a book tour. Now, that dream has borne fruit. The fun of it doesn't even begin to describe my excitement. At the bottom of the cover is my fulfilled fantasy— "by Lynn Zimmering," The book, My Pandemic Paradox, published by Boulevard Books, is available everywhere.
What a joy it is!
Throughout my lifetime, I have dipped my pinky toe into writing. However, it was only in the isolation of the pandemic that I became committed to writing regularly. And at that, it snuck up on me. I could improve at commitments. But I was committed to this project and stuck with it.
Each time I stopped smoking, although I vowed that the cigarette I was smoking would be my last, another one followed, along with my sense of failure, desire, and satisfaction upon inhaling that junk.
I've had other failures in the non-commitment department: as a dancer, a photographer, a painter, a writer, and an actor. However, I was a dedicated dilettante, an amateur, excusing myself as a person who could reinvent as often as I wished. I would make a sharp turn to another project when encountering a problem. Not too lofty a goal.
However, being a wife and a mother was a powerful dedication. Sadly, my first marriage allegiance ended as a failure, but my outstanding children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren are a blessing to which my devotion remains.
As a Music and Art High School sophomore, I had an excellent English teacher, Mrs. Richardson. It was Tuesday's gloomy, gray-laden day when Mrs. Richardson gave us an in-class assignment. The classroom windows were long and narrow, allowing the light to enter the room in shafts. The inside was as gray as the outside.
She said, "Pick any color and write a story about it." I chose yellow. My story was about a "hill of yellow daffodils, through which one could see only darkness." It described my fourteen-year-old inner life.
Several people read their stories out loud the next day. I desperately didn't want to be one of them, so I examined my shoes close-up as Mrs. Richardson called the names. Then, I heard my name and slowly rose to read. No one said anything at the end.
My desire to avoid reading this story was correct.
However, as I was leaving the room, the class being over, Ira, my big crush, told me he liked my story. Imagine how his words made me feel — gratified, embarrassed, naked, elevated, and in love.
Once, I attempted to write a children's book. I remember nothing about it except one line describing how a character looked. "The best way to see him is to squint your eyes until they are like slits. Or, by closing your eyes completely, his image will become clearest." Shortly after that, I put the book aside, never to return.
Recently, I started writing a book about living a satisfying life while adhering to a medical regimen because of a chronic illness like mine — Type 1 Diabetes. After the first few pages, I abandoned the project because of other responsibilities and, as usual, never returned to complete it.
So, regularly writing blogs snuck up on me in the commitment realm. This book is the first time I have created and finished a dream. It was a journey from a daydream to an accomplishment.