Sharon Dow

Once the decision to write had been made, it was down to business, enjoyable business, but still business.

One day during the last year before I retired, I was reading chapter two of the book of Revelation when I came across a name I hadn’t noticed before. Christ is talking to the church of Pergamum and says, “. . . even in the days of Antipas, my faithful witness, who was put to death in your city, where Satan lives.”

Antipas, interesting name, but I didn’t know anything else about him. I checked for other references in the Bible: none. I checked historical sites: minimal information. Something deep inside me said, “This is it!” I knew I had my story.

I started to write. Quite literally that is what I did. I didn’t have a plan, I didn’t develop characters beforehand, I didn’t work out a plot; I just wrote. The story was inside of me, in its entirety. I just had to get it on paper.

The writing was pure joy. I would sit at my computer and the story poured out. I never knew ahead of time what would happen that day. I often would sit back and say, “I didn’t know that was going to happen.” I know this is not the way everyone writes, nor will it be the way I always write. But for this book, for this time, that is the way it happened. Once the characters were established, they seemed to take on a life of their own and whisper their story to me. I just tried to get it down as truthfully as possible.

The story took unexpected twists and turns as the events unfolded. I researched names so my characters would fit in to the times in which they were living. I researched customs and clothing styles of the day, camel caravans and care of camels, cities he would visit so I would have a feel for the marketplaces and other interesting sites, the god of the times, and their places of worship just to name a few. I learned many new things and incorporated things I had known forever. History lessons of the past came back with their information ready to be placed in the manuscript. (Special thanks to my high school history teachers. I’m glad I paid attention in your classes!) The book would be a combination of fact and fiction.

The exciting thing about being the author of historical fiction is that you can work with the known facts, but you can also adjust those facts to fit your characters and your story. This blend is acceptable and desirable to help your story flow and be believable.

Over 120,000 words later, it was done. I had found my genre. I was comfortable. It was a fit. This is not surprising as historical fiction is most often my reading choice. I have steeped myself in it for years.

So when you write, choose what’s comfortable. Write from your heart using all the experiences that have made up the pages of your life. Follow your interests; let your mind show you the way. But most of all, just write.

I finished my career as an educator two years ago, so that means I’m retired, right?

Wrong! What it means is that I now work for myself. I do things that have been dreams for many years. But I didn’t arrive at my current schedule overnight.

I love organization. I love being organized. So, it seemed a natural progression for me to seek to organize the things I hoped to accomplish. I had seen the movie, The Bucket List, and decided I needed my own bucket list. For those of you who are not familiar with the expression, it is a list of things you would like to accomplish before you die (or kick the bucket, as the expression goes). That became job number one. I must say that I was surprised at some of the items that ended up on my list!

Some of the things on my list are:

• Visit Moscow
• Publish a book
• Learn to ride a horse
• Learn to swim properly
• Take a conversational French course
• Work on my Masters Degree
• Drive on the 401
• Get over my fear of snakes

I finished my list and went, “wow”. How can I ever do all that? Then I remembered how to eat an elephant, “one bite at a time.” Which “elephant” should I tackle first? I checked the list carefully, loosely putting things in order of priority. Which would be most fulfilling? Which would fill my time in a purposeful manner? We’ve talked about a trip to Moscow and it doesn’t look impossible. In another couple of years, that may happen. I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to get over the snake fear, because it would mean coming into contact with “them”. How would the master’s degree help me at this point in my life? I can live without driving on the 401.

There was no question in my mind that publishing a book should be the first one. I think it is the one I most desire. So the decision was made. For all you aspiring writers; remember to make the decision first; don’t worry about what your topic will be or how you’ll ever get enough words on paper, or who will publish it. Make the decision to write. Once that is made, the other things will fall into place.

And keep reading my blog postings. I will lead you step by step along my personal writing journey.

After being in the classroom for several years, it was time for a change of direction in my career. I was still enjoying teaching, but a new opportunity presented itself and I felt inclined to pursue it. I was offered the position of Vice-Principal in the same school, still teaching grade 6, but being relieved two half days a week to do vice-principal duties in the office. I very quickly discovered I loved administrative work.

I looked forward to these times in the office, visiting the classrooms, working with students from other classes, and doing whatever presented itself. I felt I had the ideal position and would continue with the combination until I retired.

Alas that was not to be. Early in the second year of vice-principal work, I was approached to consider taking over as Principal the following September. This was not in my life-plan. I had never yearned for the post, never desired it, never even considered it. A few years earlier I had been asked, but had flatly refused. It was not what I wanted.

Decisions have a way of making themselves without much help from us, so I found myself in the office behind the big desk, come September. What words could describe those first few weeks? Overwhelming, confusing, intimidating, frightening are a few that come to mind. But school managed to start on the day designated and I survived the first day. I could identify with the little JK’s coming in, I felt the same.

Were there things I liked about the job? Absolutely!

·        Students: They were, for the most part, one of the main areas of enjoyment. Sure they misbehaved, but they always came through with respect. There were times when it was difficult not to smile, when the same faces would appear, for the same misdemeanor. They would peek through my door, looks of remorse on their faces and I would say, ‘Not again?’ I got to know some of them very well. We spent much time together.

·        Classrooms: I also enjoyed visiting the classrooms where my learning continued. I would see new and innovative things being utilized by other staff members. It was always fun to listen in on lessons and watch the students interact with the teacher and with each other.

·        Yard Duty: Believe it or not, one of my favourite things to do was to put on coat, gloves, and boots and exit the front door for a time supervising the playground. I especially enjoyed the early morning duties when the students were arriving. It was a time to set a good tone for the day, and to greet both students and their parents.

·        Office Work: I loved filling out forms, creating new forms to be used, working on the budget for the coming year, interviewing prospective staff members; all the things that would come across my desk in a day.

One thing I promised you and myself is that I would be totally honest in what I put in this blog. There were areas of the job that were stress-laden and caused me pain. I had many sleepless nights as I tried to deal with the stresses. I’m sorry to say that angry parents were the greatest cause of my grief. The proverbial buck stops at the principal’s chair.

But did I learn? Of course!

• Computer skills: I came into the computer world ‘kicking and screaming’ as the expression goes. Thanks to my Administrative Assistant, I learned. She patiently answered my questions, walked me through things, got me out of difficulties when I would make mistakes, and generally encouraged me. I am continuing to hone these skills and without them, I would never have been able to write my books. An aside note here; when I was in high school, we had to take a typing course. I hated it and did not use the skill very often over the years. But when I decided I was going to learn to use the computer, I remembered the finger positions which greatly assisted me. Amazing how something I didn’t want to do, paid dividends many years later!
• Everything is not my fault: That was a hard lesson for me. I took everything personally. Every criticism made to me and about me, every threat, every name, every rumor; I hugged them closely. I had to learn to back up and realize that I didn’t need to take all the stress personally.
• Writing: I did get to write. I wrote a column for each monthly newsletter. I had many encouraging comments about them which gave me the courage to begin my books.

Would I have made the same decision if I had known what the job would be like? No, for the stress level; yes, for what I learned that I could not have learned in any other situation. There are many ways to learn. Stress is the hard way; but it can be effective. If you are in a stressful situation right now, see what is in it for you to learn and then embrace the learning.

The next ten years of my life were spent teaching bright and beautiful minds. I found myself being challenged to enrich my lessons, find new and interesting ways to communicate, while allowing time and effort to assist those who were struggling. In any classroom there are a variety of levels of understanding, as well as a wide range of effort put forth by the students. It’s a test of being “all things to all people”.

Early in my teaching career I had promised myself that I would not ever teach the same curriculum the same way a second year. I remember teachers from my own education pathway who would use the same tests and assignments year after year. It’s tempting to do that, but it holds no rewards. So, each summer I would revamp my subjects, adding different approaches, new material, changing assignments, updating information, whatever it took to make it fresh. I came to love these sessions during the summer.

I loved my classes. It’s a toss-up whether grade 6 or grade 8 is the best grade to teach. For me, I love grade 6 but grade 8 gets a slight edge. I learned so much from my grade 8’s.

Things I learned from Grade 8 students:

1. Hug people when they need it. The human touch is important for our development.
2. Accept hugs from others. This is a sign of acceptance and a reaching out from others.
3. Be loyal to your peers. This pays big dividends for you.
4. Always help a person when they’re down and they’ll help you when you need it.
5. Be sensitive to the feelings of others. Someone may need your help but may be too shy to ask.
6. Be certain of what is right and what is wrong and stick to it no matter what.
7. Don’t forget to have fun. Life is a journey, enjoy it.
8. Work hard when you need to.

Sill no time to write, but the dream never died. I marked some amazing things over those few years, and some of those students are now writing things of their own. I know I will soon be reading works from former students.

If you have the dream to write, but not the time; just wait patiently, your time will come. There are other things for you to do now. Do them with all your heart but don’t ever let the dream die.

Life is filled with challenges. It’s what we do with these challenges that make the difference. Our family was on a new journey: a new city, a new church, new schools for the boys, the oldest now in college so not as much a part of the move, new jobs, new friends and of course the list goes on.

We did not know at that time that we had now arrived where we would spend at least the next twenty years of our lives. For so long we had been transferred often, staying from two to four years in any location. We did not know that this is where my husband would be facing finding a new job after twenty-two years with the same corporation. We did not know the joys or the sorrows that would make up the pattern of our lives. But we felt ready for the challenge.

I was able to secure a part time position at a school teaching a grade 5/6 split two mornings a week, and music to the whole school (JK to grade with the promise of a grade 7/8 the following year. I almost didn’t make it to the second year.

Moving from class to class teaching a subject considered a ‘game’ by many of the students did not sit well with me. Having to drive to a second campus to teach two classes was also a challenge, especially in bad weather. I soon wearied of the job. Each time I entered a classroom, I had to re-establish my discipline routines. The fun was gone. The only thing that kept me at the job, was that very early in my life, my mother had taught me that you don’t give up when things are tough. If you begin something, you must finish. A commitment is a trust. You must fulfill your obligation.

So I persevered. There were bright moments. I loved the students in the 5/6 split. The grade 6’s would be a part of my class the next year and the bonding began that year. I was also leading both a primary and senior choir. That proved enjoyable as well. The Christmas program and the annual musical were rewarding and I made it through the year.

I’m so glad I did. As you can guess, it was a learning year. I learned to sift out what was important and cling to those things. I learned that you can overcome unwelcome challenges. I learned that life brings the difficult along with the lovely. I learned that students can be the ones who encourage you and keep you going. Thank you to those students in the grade 5/6 split. You know who you are. You kept me going. You gave me a reason for wanting to come to school. You taught me so much and I find you often in my mind and my memories.

Things did get brighter and I’m glad I listened to the teaching of my mother and stayed with my commitment.

I loved being home with my children. My plan was to stay home until they were all grown up and ready to be out on their own. I drifted along not really having plans for the future; not knowing how fast the future would sneak up on me.

When my youngest was ten, I was offered a position in a private Christian School teaching a grade 6/7/8 class. I now faced a difficult struggle. Should I go back to teaching? Could I still teach? Would I be able to bond with the students? And the biggest one; how would my children cope with me out of the home?

I wrestled with the decision. I talked to people including my children. They did not share my fears. They encouraged me to go. My husband assured me I would be fine and so would the family. That just left me!

Once the decision was made to return, I came home from the school laden with curriculum which I piled on the dining-room table. It was daunting! I told my family I would see them in a few days. If they really needed me, I would be at the table with my books! It was the week before school was to begin, so there was much to be prepared.

The first day of school arrived. I felt like a kindergarten student approaching the formidable edifice for the first time. I arrived early, arranging my books for the day, writing on the chalk board for the first time in fourteen years, and keeping an eye on the classroom door for the first appearance of my students.

They arrived with smiling faces. I smiled back at them. The years fell away and I was once again a teacher. It seemed as though I had never been away from the classroom. We bonded on that first day of what would be an amazing year.

I now had another source of learning: students during the day and my boys at night. I was on another learning curve. The class was multi-cultural which was incredible. We learned about other cultures in our daily routines. It’s surprising how similar children are regardless of their cultural background. We had many interesting discussions as we explored our backgrounds.

And yes, my children were fine. Being a teacher has many advantages including holidays that correspond with the ones the children enjoyed. Summer holidays, March Break, Easter; I was home for all of them.

Unfortunately I was only able to teach in that school for three years. My husband was transferred to another city which meant a move for all of us. It is always hard to leave friends and jobs, but we looked at each move as an opportunity to see new places, meet new people and see how the next chapter of our lives would unfold. I could be certain of one thing: there would be more learning.

My teaching career was temporarily interrupted when I went on Maternity leave with my first child. The children were not an interruption, they were and are, my whole life. I experienced a sense of completeness and fulfillment such as I had never experienced before. Were there challenges? Of course. Challenges come with every worthwhile venture.

My learning continued. Now instead of learning from my students, I was learning from my children. One lesson I apparently needed to learn was patience. It was called upon time after time. I learned how children think, what they like to do, I basked in their hugs and kisses. I became a nurse, a storyteller, a policeman, a pyschologist, a mentor, a peace maker, a cookie maker; you know the list, those of you who are mom's learned all those things too,

I believe in reading so much, that I started reading to my children as soon as we came home from the hospital. More than one person mocked me saying the child couldn't understand the story yet. My response was always two-fold; you can't know at what moment your child begins to comprehend so I was not going to miss that moment, and if for no other reason, the child loved being cuddled and loved the sound of his mother's voice and I enjoyed the experience. (But I never want to read Ruppert again! It was a favourite of my oldest. The book had pictures with a short version of the story with a longer version underneath. Sometimes I would try to get away with the shorter version, but he was too smart and always pointed out that I wasn't reading it right!) I now have three readers. Some became lovers of books very early on, others took a little longer, but we've all arrived.

Now life became really busy with three little boys. No time for writing, not even time to think about plots for stories. My husband and I began writing Christmas stories for the children to be read on Christmas Eve. I still try to write a new one each year. I hope one day to write a Christmas Eve book. We developed many special Christmas Eve traditions including a special seafood menu, stories, the Luke 2 passage of the events of Christ's birth, as well as a game involving elves and clues as to where to find your treat. I still write the rhymes for the games.

Still in the back of my mind was the novel I wanted to write. I started a few things, but they were not quite right. But somewhere in my mind, I knew that one day I would write. Every experience I had with my children, every book I read, every trip we took, added another layer of information being stored for the right moment to arrive.

Treasure your memories. Write and keep ideas. One day they may be just the thing to get you started.

i began my teaching career with a grade three class. I loved the children and their sweet stories, but I knew I was not at the right grade level. The next teaching year, I was given a grade 7, 8, and 9 position teaching all the English subjects and Music. Instantly I knew I had found my niche. I loved it. I loved the humour junior high students display, I loved their thinking patterns, I loved their desire to learn, I loved their up and down emotions. Some days it was like a roller coaster ride, and I loved it!

I quickly became involved in student activities leading the choir and writing and producing Christmas programs. Still writing; but in a different setting. As I interacted with them, I soon discovered that I was learning as well as teaching! When a teacher bonds with his or her class and really listens to them, the teacher begins to learn as well.

One day in my grade 8 class, I accidentally knocked some papers from my desk. I was frustrated with myself as I bent down to pick them up from the floor. One of my grade eight boys ran to the front and began to help pick up the mess. He looked at me and said, "Miss Galbraith, don't sweat the small stuff." I've never forgotten that. It was a life-lesson learned from a student who didn't have all the advantages I had when growing up. Thanks Junior, I'll never forget you. (New Albert School circa 1967)

Literature had always been my favourite subject and now Creative Writing was beginning to close the gap. I often found the creative writing assigments in the text books boring so I started writing my own. For those of you who suffered through my assignments, I hope you found them more interesting than you would have found the ones in the text.

Then the marking would begin. Page after page of grade 8 writing assignments. Many of them were weak and not at a grade 8 level, but in between them would appear one that shone. I would soar with you as you let your imagination create superior stories. I still wanted to write that book, but I was content to guide others on their own writing journey.

The weak ones worked and soon improvement would be seen. Everyone has the potential to improve. My hat is off to those of you who worked so hard to improve your skills and tasted success!

I continued to learn as I read their papers and as I taught the mechanics of writing. Never stop learning. It is a life-long venture. Learn as long as you live. Love learning as you love life.

April 20, 2010

Writing has always been an interest. I loved writing stories for school and trying my hand at writing other things. I wrote some mediocre poetry and soon admitted to myself that it was not my gift. I still write some just for my own amusement, sometimes to add to a scrapbook page.

But the dream to write a novel and have it published came probably during my high school years. Literature and History were two of my favourite subjects and I soon was able to identify that historical fiction was my favourite genre. I began to avidly seek books set in England, Russia, Southern US, and a few other areas. I discovered Charles Dickens (I think my all time favourite author), Jane Austen, The Bronte sisters, Frances Parkinson Keyes, as well as a host of more modern writers. I absorbed not only their content, but their writing styles. I recognize now on looking back that they were forming the style that would one day be my style, a combination of what I liked to read.

In University, I focused on Literature, History, Psychology, as well as enrolling in a Creative Writing course. I want to be totally honest in this blog and tell you the good with the not so good. This writing course falls into the category of 'not so good.' It was not my most successful venture. It turned out to be a small group (about twelve) who met for three hour seminars once a week along with the professor. We sat around a table and were given a writing assignment each week. When we would meet again, each person would read their piece and the class and professor would proceed to tear it apart.

It was bruising to the ego. By the end of the semester, I'm not sure I even had an ego left at all. Some of the students had been involved in this type of class before and knew how to write what the class and professor wanted. I was still writing what I was feeling and what I felt was the right thing to write.

My work was shredded by times. The complaints ranged from not enough violence, no bad language, no sex scenes, not true to life etc. etc. Somewhere along the way I decided I didn't want to write the way they thought I should but I did tighten up my work, make every word count and finally did receive some very limited praise. I hate to admit it, but when the course was over, I was so upset I destroyed all my writing from that class. Don't ever do that. I wish I had kept it. It would have given me a basis to look back on what I was thinking and feeling at that point in time.

Enough of my woes for today. Things did get brighter.

Monday, April 19, 2010

This is my first post, the first of many, I hope. I want to journal each step of the way in hopes of encouraging some of you who also have the dream to write and publish. I also want to keep a record of my own journey and sort out all the steps in my own mind.

And it has been and still is a journey. A wonderful, incredible, unpredictable, amazing journey!

It all began many years ago when I was a very small child. I have no idea how old I was when my mother started reading to me. I'm guessing very young as I don't remember a time when it didn't happen. It early on became a bedtime ritual. But the times I remember best, were the times when I was sick (usually tonsilitis, or measles, or chicken pox etc.). I would beg my mother to read to me as it distracted me from the discomfort I was feeling.

I soon became close friends with Heidi, Black Beauty, The Bobbsey Twins, Alice in Wonderland and a host of other classics. The love of reading was well entrenched by the time I started school. Learning to read was a joy as now I could read my books on my own. Little Women, Little Men, Anne of Green Gables, Ginny Gordon, Trixie Belding, The Hardy Boys and others joined the list of my favourites. My brother had a set of Dave Dawson War Hero books and I devoured them, too.

When I had nothing else to read, I read stories from a set of encyclopedias we had. I had become addicted to reading! It has served me well in many areas of my life and it is still something I do every day. Whatever else you may do as a parent, make sure you read, read, read to your children.

Check in again, and read more of my journey.