By December 2011, I was exhausted but incredibly happy that I had finished the first draft of my novel. It is not entirely clear to me how the little story that had kicked around in my head for ten months expanded into such an epic adventure for my four central characters. I always had a lot to say. I guess it was a by-product of being the middle child in a family of five kids. The lovely teachers at St John the Evangelist in Toronto, where I grew up, often remarked on my reports that “Anne has an active imagination, but it would benefit her to talk less and listen more.” That still cracks me up! No wonder I ended up in sales. 

I had made a promise to four cherub-faced children that the book would be finished and that over the Christmas holiday I would read it aloud over the course of a three-night sleepover. Rubrum was thrilled to have a house filled with kids. He nestled himself at the feet of my sons and their two closest friends, who’d inspired my main characters. The fire sizzled as I cracked opened the binder that had protected my story for over a year and a half. I thought, what if they hate it? I had faced top corporate executives across long mahogany boardroom tables, but I can honestly say that I don’t recall ever being that nervous to read aloud. Wrapped in blankets, sipping hot chocolate, my four biggest critics waited for me to finally share the story of Shimmy. 

You can learn a lot from ten-year-olds and seven-year-olds. For starters, they know what they really like and what they hardly tolerate. Thankfully for me, there was more that they liked about Shimmy. In fact, they had a name for it: “three stars and one wish.” The kids would each volunteer three things they liked in each chapter plus a wish for one change. Some of the best changes I made were thanks to those kids.

New Year’s 2012 kicked off with a bang! I had researched a long list of literary agents who I felt could help me navigate the world of publishing. I was certain having an agent and a traditional publishing arrangement made more sense than indie publishing. My writing would be the cherry on top of my career cake. I had a wonderful, rewarding and very demanding job. So as far as I was concerned, if I could write to satisfy my hobby itch while someone else managed the business side of it, all the better. I came close that year to securing a couple of agents, but for one reason or another, it didn’t happen. 

By 2013 I’d started to wonder if maybe my fantasy of getting published was just a dream that I should shelve, that my passion for writing would be better suited when life was less hectic. My dad’s passing a year later, on November 28, 2014, made me realize that I had gone too far to just give up. I had already started Volume 2 in the Shimmy series, so I shifted my energy and started to write again. Having those beautiful characters back in my head was wonderful. This time the characters were older, in a world of trouble, and facing problems even I didn’t know how to get them out of. It was great! 

Funny what happens when the universe needs you to sit tight and wait. You need to overcome your fear. I now understand the famous quote from James Beard: “The only thing that will make a soufflé fall is if it knows you’re afraid of it.” So, I didn’t share my novel. Dumb, I know. 

The history books will have a lot to say about the COVID-19 pandemic, so I will only say this: thanks to my confinement, I happily picked up where I’d left off, and this time I didn’t stop until my Shimmies were living, breathing, fully edited characters ready to be introduced to the world. The tail end of 2021 will be memorable for so many reasons. Shimmy is officially released, and life couldn’t be better.