This is a featured guest post entry by R.J. Loom for the Freelance Writers Academy Blog Carnival for September 2013. Please welcome her and tell us what you think by posting your comments below. Thank you R.J. Loom for this great entry!

Each person is inspired or motivated by different things. Sometimes it’s a significant event in their life or series of events. Other times it’s simply a fleeting moment that on the surface may not seem like much yet, has a lasting effect. In my case, it’s difficult to choose just one person or thing that has influenced me to become a writer. I believe it’s a path I’ve been on for some time now without even realizing it. Though, looking back I can now see what those influences were.

I’m the youngest of six kids. Born, the daughter of a poor immigrant as my dad would say. He is by far the biggest influence in who I am today. The life he lived in the Ukraine before he immigrated to the United States after WWII, gave him an interesting view on life. He had been in his words “…starved, bombed at and buried alive. So don’t sweat the small stuff.” His laid back demeanor and stories of his life prior to his family immigrating here, gave me a different perspective on my perceived notions that my problems were the end of the world or insurmountable. He believed anything was possible; that you could do or become anything you wanted to be. His insatiable curiosity was contagious and made me want to be everything from an astronomer, musician, artist or psychiatrist. It wasn’t until I began writing that I realized I could be all of those things.

While my father has been a constant influence, the next was one of those fleeting moments in my life. I should say it was a person who believed in me at a time when I think most don’t believe in themselves. Yes, that’s right, the teenage years.

In my sophomore year of high school, I took a class called Modern Novel. My teacher was one who not only loved to teach but also truly believed she was making a difference in children’s lives. Being the youngest, my older siblings had already taken her class and one of my older sisters had become friends with this teacher, after she graduated. I had never been much of an academic; doing the bare minimum to skate by. However, this teacher saw something in me that I failed to see myself, potential. Potential for what, I had no clue. But she seemed genuinely interested in seeing me succeed. Her class was interesting and I found it difficult not to get caught up in her enthusiasm for what she was teaching. The books we read and the papers I had to write were not the chore I always viewed homework to be. This should have been my first clue that writing was something I should be doing.

One day, I was dealing with one of my teenage crises and she pulled me aside after class to ask me how I was doing. I don’t know what my response was but I remember vividly what she did next. Reaching into her desk, she pulled out a book and handed it to me. No instructions were given. She didn’t give me a due date, expect me to write a paper or even ask me to let her know what I thought of it. She seemed content just to know I had it and confident that I would read it.

I went home that day and the first thing I did, was read it from start to end. It didn’t take long. The book was small and the story simple. The message of the story was so basic that many take it for granted every day. Many, except for people like this teacher and my father. The book was “The Precious Present” by Spencer Johnson M. D.

Later, she made a recommendation that I take honors English the following year. Taking honors anything wasn’t anything I had hoped to aspire to. Yet she believed I could do it.

Many years later, I became a paralegal at a busy law firm. Writing became a big part of my life. The focus however, was on spelling, grammar, punctuation and how to word things in the most professional manner. As an introvert, this work suited me. I was alone with my computer, writing and doing research. It was fulfilling to an extent yet lacked something.

Five years into my career, I discovered what that something was; the creative outlet that allowed me to do so much more than professionally word firm correspondence or pleadings. I joined a group of writers who had a shared love of a bestselling author’s work. It was a spontaneous decision but it gave me a freedom to be all those things my father believed I could be. I just never realized writing was the way to facilitate those dreams.

 

Bio: I was born and raised along the shores of Lake Erie in Ohio, where I still reside with my husband, two teenage children and spoiled Boxer. Aspiring author of "The Ilia Stone" and Co-Founder of Dead Bound Publishing. Visit me at my blog or on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100006493366033