Kate Cabot

I’ve never been silent about my dream to write a book.

I started writing my first story at age eight in a spiral lined notebook, like the kind you use at school and used to be able to buy for a dime. It was called “Murder in the Greenhouse,” and it was about a murder that took place in a greenhouse. I was with my friend Jeanne, standing in the greenhouse of her church, when the idea came to me. And I worked on the idea of that first novel until later that afternoon, when my mom came to pick my up from my overnight visit with Jeanne’s family.

But the seed had actually been planted years before. I find that even as far back as age five, I’d been telling people that I wanted to be a writer, giving it as an answer when asked for school assignments, by family members, by friends. It’s been pervasive. I must confess, despite having a long career that didn’t involve writing, I’ve wanted to be a writer my entire life. And not just any kind of writer: a novelist.

So here I am decades later, and none of the books lining the many, many bookshelves in my home are written by me. And when I visit the bookstores, my name isn’t visible on any of those bindings. I even went to graduate school and took an MFA in creative writing. What went wrong?

What went wrong is that I didn’t actually write anything. I wanted to do it, but I didn’t make it a priority. But now, I will, and you’re going to help me by being my partner in this. I’m going to write and report back to you that I did and provide a word count. By the end of this year, we’ll have finished a first draft of something. It may be awful, but I’m okay with that.The point is to have it finished. And then to write a better one.

And if you’re writing your first book, or would like to, I’d love to hear from you.