LET IT RIP

At 62, I am a mother of three and a grandmother of six. I am a member of the silent majority who has been silent far too long. It is my turn to be heard.

As a college student, medical student and young mother and physician, I was too busy to find my voice, let alone speak it. Besides, in my training as a pathologist and later as a psychiatrist, I was schooled to censor all verbiage, lest it offend or rain down legal wrath upon my head.

In social circles, I often heard others pontificating drivel, I remained quiet. I felt any comment I made would fall on deaf ears or summon an attack, and I wasn't willing to waste my energy.

In 1997, with children grown and grandchildren on the horizon, I lived off the grid and, with hammer in hand, I built my own home. On a very cold January day, I was sitting in bed quilting, attempting to stay warm. Suddenly, a short essay came to mind, and words began to gush through me and onto paper. It was as if the cosmic computer button had pressed print.

My motto became, "Let it rip," and I did. Over the following years, I wrote three books on holistic healing, art and women's history.

Making the usual rounds of query letters to agents and publishers, I accumulated a stack of rejection letters. It seems I needed to be well known, or known by the right people, to be published.

Mustering my courage and resolve, I decided if artists could buy their own canvas, I could buy my own paper. In 2006, with the help of two professional stay-at-home mothers, I self-published.

In 2008, I released another adult nonfiction and six children's books. My readers have been few, and the literary world has yet to fall at my feet.

Disheartened, I have pondered the question, "Why write?" Finally, the proverbial light bulb went off, and I realized it is not so important that I am read. What is important is that I write.

For years, I have admired such artists as Georgia O'Keeffe and Grandma Moses. In their tenacity and perseverance, they held true to their inner visions, and I must do the same. There is freedom in anonymity. When no one is looking, I can really let it rip.