Chapter 1: The Birth of Veronica

Recently, I had the incredible experience of publishing my first children’s book, Veronica Saves the Balloons. (If you’re interested, you can check it out here.) The image accompanying this article features the book’s cover.

This title marks the beginning of a trilogy centered around Veronica and her enchanting escapades with her balloon companions, all set in the whimsical Patch Quilt Cove. I have numerous other tales in development that also unfold in this delightful universe.

There’s something magical about stories set in interconnected worlds where diverse characters meet and intertwine across various narratives. I desired to create a vibrant universe for my stories, one that could inspire countless adventures.

The truth is, I could write about Patch Quilt Cove for years without exhausting my ideas.

Surprisingly, the first story about Veronica came to me two decades ago. It was so vivid that I wrote the entire draft in one sitting, including detailed descriptions of the illustrations I envisioned. This process was just as challenging as crafting the narrative itself.

However, I later distanced myself from the work, primarily due to my lack of confidence in my writing abilities.

One of the persistent struggles I face is my tendency to compare myself to the most accomplished individuals in any setting—whether it's the fittest person at the gym or the most skilled musician. Inevitably, I find myself measuring my writing against my literary heroes, feeling inferior and unworthy of sharing my work with the world. Why expose myself to potential judgment and embarrassment?

My inner child has endured many defeats in this ongoing battle.

Yet, despite my lack of understanding, I continued to write.

During two separate phases of my childhood, I created a neighborhood "newspaper," which I handwrote and stapled together. I would ride my bike around the neighborhood, discreetly dropping copies into mailboxes, all before I turned ten—never discussing my work with anyone. I was like a young literary ninja.

In middle school, I penned a short story for a youth writing workshop, crafting a mini-book complete with a cover. My insecurity was so profound that I didn’t even include a title. Unsurprisingly, no one bothered to read it.

In college, I participated in a creative writing workshop led by an author I admired. My self-doubt was palpable, and sharing my work felt excruciating. The instructor’s lack of encouragement only deepened my fears, and I refrained from writing for the next decade.

Eventually, the urge to write became too strong to ignore, and I began sharing my work solely with my mom, who has always been my biggest supporter.

Years after drafting Veronica Saves the Balloons, my mom surprised me with a printed copy, illustrated by a family member, through a vanity publisher.

On Christmas, I unwrapped her thoughtful gift, completely unaware she had taken that initiative. Did I mention how amazing my mom is?

Despite this gesture, it still didn’t inspire me to pursue my writing further. The mindset of unworthiness can create complex mental barriers that keep one from moving forward.

However, the urge to express myself persisted, pushing me to write continually.

Then, despite my paralyzing stage fright—which often accompanies feelings of unworthiness—I began playing music with someone I greatly admired. He invited me to form an acoustic duo, and while I was intimidated by his talent, I could not have approached him on my own.

Performing and singing simultaneously has been a significant challenge, but I was determined to overcome it. Interestingly, he had initially mistaken me for someone else he had seen play.

We ended up collaborating for over a decade.

I recall having a conversation with myself about the opportunity; I realized that if I didn’t at least try, I would likely regret it.

Five years later, I began writing songs intended for my own voice. Though I had written songs before, I had never envisioned myself performing them.

This led to my first recorded song, which was interestingly backed by the same person who illustrated my book.

One song turned into several, ultimately culminating in my first album.

Stepping into the recording studio was nearly as daunting as performing live. Yet, I felt a strong need to express what was within me.

This creative journey continued with a second album, where I shared the recording process with family and friends, making it even more memorable. You can read more about that experience here.

Gradually, I became more comfortable with performing—though still not entirely at ease. I began to feel less anxious before taking the stage.

I’m unsure if this growth translated to my writing, but I published my first piece on Medium just months before my second album release. I was starting to focus more on sharing my work rather than worrying about others’ opinions.

Reflecting on my journey through self-criticism, unhealthy comparisons, and overwhelming anxiety, I find it hard to comprehend how I reached this point.

I continue to write and improve. At 53, I am empowered by my ongoing evolution as a creator.

When it comes to artistic pursuits, I anticipate this journey will only expand.

The essential lesson I've gleaned from my life experiences so far is to trust in the process of life. While I still do, I refrain from judging my work—aside from ensuring it reflects my best efforts at the moment.

Martha Graham’s words encapsulate the essence of creation beautifully:

“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time; this expression is unique. If you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is or how it compares with other expressions. Your task is to keep it yours, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. Just remain open and aware of the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is ever completely satisfied. There is only a strange, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that propels us forward and invigorates our existence.”