My Dream Job

     My little eaglets have all flown the nest, and they love it, me, not so much. I miss my kids too much. With that said, I don't wish things were different in the slightest. I knew very early on in parenting that roots and wings were the two things that I had to make sure to give my kids. My four children all know that mommy is always available to them, and they also know, much to their chagrin sometimes, that I will always come to them wherever they are. Now I am freed up to live my writer's existence without interruption. Here is my latest writer's tale.
    
     My 9 year old is in the fourth grade. He comes home from school and asks me, "Mommy, how many books have you written?" I answered him incredulously, "Tristan, you know the answer is one; this is my first book." He said, "I know, but my friend said you wrote another book." After going back and forth asking him if he corrected his friend and him telling me that he did, we let it go. It seems his friend was so sure of what he believed that Tristan had to make sure by asking me if I was sure. I had to wonder myself. The belief of a kid is that strong.

    
     Of course, Lights, Camera, Take Action is my first book though I have been writing for decades. So after talking to my kid, I walked away searching my mind to see if I had some unpublished work out there that I had forgotten about. It brought me to an excellent memory that I guess needed my attention. After venturing down memory lane, I realized maybe I did have a book before this one. Some thirty years ago, I had a diary. Now you may be thinking, "well hell, I had a diary, that doesn't mean I wrote a book as a kid." Well my diary was not the cute kind with a lock; mine was a 5 subject notebook that I turned into my diary.
    
     As an urban teen, I certainly had many challenges, but none that ever overtook me. I was always observant, resourceful, and resilient, and I wrote down everything that I experienced in an effort to process it all. That's 42 year old Joe speaking not the pre-teen who authored all those thoughts, feelings, and observations just to get them out of her head and heart. Sure enough, as is the case for most young girls, I had a mother who was trying to understand me. My mother would always say, "would you just talk to me," easier said than done. Though I didn't feel like I could talk to her, I would write letters and poems to express myself.
    
     You already know where this is going; my mother found my diary, despite my many attempts to keep my brother guessing about its whereabouts. She not only found it and read it; she shared it with all her sisters and friends. As you can imagine, I was mortified. I was embarrassed, sad, and beyond humiliated by people reading my private thoughts. "You've come a long way, baby" indeed.
    
     This crime against the sanctity of a young girl's inner workings went on for a week which for a kid is an eternity. My mother would sit on the phone with one of her friends or one of our family members and read to them from the pages of that notebook. "Honey Hoo" is my mother's phrase. When I tell you she kept saying, "Honey Hoo" at different things I had written, she just wouldn't put it down or give it back. I wrote about kissing a boy, crazy stuff going on at school and in the streets. I even wrote about her. The things she did or didn't do were probably front and center in my "book," oh the horror.
    
     I remember sitting on the floor eavesdropping on one conversation with her friend, where they just laughed and laughed. During that conversation, my heart aching pain turned into pride. After listening to my mother's chats over and over again and after a whole week of her walking around with my notebook/diary, I realized that she actually enjoyed my writing. And that folks, is how this writer was born.
    
     For years prior to the notebook incident I begged and prayed every Christmas for Santa to bring me a typewriter. The typewriter never came, but I never stopped wanting it. I just loved tapping on typewriters whenever I came across one. For fun, true story, I used to sit next to the phone and type out words with the numbers (yes, I invented texting). I was definitely destined to become a writer.
    
     So it would appear that Tristan's friend may know more than we originally thought. It would seem that I have already written a book and at least in my neighborhood and extended family, it was a hit. Shortly after the diary incident of 1984, my mother bought me a typewriter. It was the best gift I had ever received. There was a small screen that allowed me to do my two-finger pecking of all I wanted to write and then when done, I pushed a button, and the typewriter would speedily type it all up automatically. From outside my bedroom door, I sounded like an expert typist. I wish I could've said the same for my violin practicing, but alas, my destiny was not to be a violinist. I am a writer.
    
     Thank you to everyone who has followed my mommy's lead, bought my book, and shared my writing with your family and friends. I pray you, like her, will enjoy my words. And this is why I am a happy empty nester despite my occasional whining and kid stalking. I am living a dream being able to call myself a writer and a professional author. I love signing books for readers and taking pictures with future success stories. A special thank you to Gary and Regina York for hosting my first signing at their movie theater.
    
     My latest writing class (yep, still a nerd) at Harvard Extension School has begun and will take me away from social media as I work really hard in these next 4 months to get that 'A.' However, I will still be around occasionally with my funny and motivational take on things, just not so much.
    
     Your Movie Coach is busy putting wisdom into action for the benefit of my present and future readers. Please feel free to message me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter, or visit this blog should you miss your Joe fix. More greatness is in the works as I write for my craft, my readers, and myself everyday. I pray my book will support you in creating your own dream life. Everything I put in it has helped me to do just that.

    
     I read, I write, I watch TV & movies, and I dance in my underwear. Beyoncé was correct in her documentary when she said, "Life is but a Dream," and I am living it everyday.


     Thank you again for your support. Until next time...
Take care of you,
Joe Williams-Nelson, Author Extraordinaire, A Real Housewife, Mogul Mom, Movie Coach Joe, Mama Joe, and Mother of Eagles.