Fourteen years ago, I ended my unhappy twenty-three year marriage. Then I lost my job. I found another one, but fear settled into my stomach that my career would not be stable. Two years later, I was laid off yet again. Three months after that, my mom, who was my best friend, died. I sank into the deepest depression, wondering if I could every climb out.
With the economy in dire condition, finding another job proved impossible. For two years I applied to everything and anything I thought I qualified for, which was not much, and then I started applying for jobs I didn’t qualify for. With all of this free time, I began to think about my former career. The one I had to give up, even though I didn’t want to.
In the mid-1970s, I became one of the first women to fight fires for the U.S. Forest Service. My seven-year career, although challenging and tough at times, still held some of the best memories of my life. Prompted by my neighbor, who suggested I should write a book about my firefighting job, I thought to at least write down some of my adventures. Ninety pages later, I shared it with friends. They encouraged me to write more. Four-hundred fifty pages later, I realized I had written what now resembled a book.
However, now that I’d written one, I needed to find out if it was any good. I joined a writers group, and connected with a retired English teacher, who volunteered to help me with grammar and storyline. Many edits later, I felt comfortable with the story, and decided to try for traditional publishing. I began querying for a literary agent.
The querying and ongoing editing process took two years. Did I get discouraged? Sure I did. But I tapped into my tenacity to finish what I started. At one point, frustrated with editing something that just wasn’t working, I set the original manuscript aside. I knew I had a story worth telling, I just needed to figure out the best way to tell it. Therefore, I rewrote the first five chapters. That worked, and I landed a traditional book deal in January, 2017. My book was released into the world on May 1, 2018.
If you are thinking of giving up, that you can’t possibly get that story written, or find a publisher when you do, all I can say is don’t give up. Writing a book is hard, but who said it would be easy? I’m a perfect example of how important it is to believe in your story and to never, ever give up. Even if it means rewriting the darned thing to reach your goal.
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| From the upper left corner going clockwise: Helispot maintenance day, 1976. My first experience flying in helicopters was scary, but thrilling! Once I got used to it, I loved flying. Northern California. Klamath National Forest, Hog-Fong Fire 1977. At over 50,000 acres (considered huge back then) this would be the largest fire I would fight. I'd be out there for nearly 3 weeks, losing track of time, working until I was a walking zombie, and would have a pretty darned scary close-call one night. My "Red Card." Firefighters receive these to prove they passed the fitness test in order to be able to work on the fireline. A backfire on the Hog-Fong Fire on the Klamath National Forest, 1977. Here, we are setting fire to fight fire by burning out the fuel ahead of the main blaze. Rather terrifying, I must say. The ticket stub for my train ride on the Whitehorse Narrow Gauge Railroad from Whitehorse, Canada, to Skayway, Alaska in September 1980. Sadly, half of this route closed the year after I took this ride. Such a shame. A C-47 aircraft drops slurry on the Box Fire, 1976. This is my second fire, and it just so happens I was underneath that drop--a very dangerous place to be. So how did I get this shot? The photo was not taken by me, but by another firefighter who found my camera in our truck, and took photos for me. Imagine the surprise when I developed them and found these! Me and Smokey the Bear, October 1976. It was my last day at Florida Ranger Station, and the guys were getting ready for the Green Valley Parade. If I look a bit uncomfortable, it's because the guy inside the bear suit is someone I did not get along with, whom in fact I rather despised. He was mean to me, degrading, and told me to my face a couple weeks earlier that I didn't belong there, and that I should quit. My Smokey the Bear key chain. The Hog-Fong fire in Northern California. A night shot, which adds to the drama. Part of my crew riding in the back of Army transport trucks to fight the Hog-Fong Fire. The dust was so bad we covered our faces with bandanas. I finally closed my eyes because of the dust, too. I worked for the Coronado National Forest for 3 summers, and wore this patch on my fire shirts. The other two photos are also of the Hog-Fong fire. In the center: My 1976 journal, open to my first week at Florida Ranger Station. My Hopi necklace, which I wore every day and still wear often. It was purchased on our first trip out West. A friend told me the center stone represents the Earth, and the swirls of silver, the Universe. |
