I've already made a brief announcement about the new developments surrounding "Maiden Aunt," my first published short story. But this event has made me sit back and think about how I came to write it in the first place, and how it has changed my outlook on life.

The story is built on a whole series of unlikely events and coincidences that can still astound me when I think about them.

As you know from my review of The Weight Of Flames, I met my editor Bernadette Rule by coincidence--not once, but twice, with several years between the encounters. It was only at the second meeting that we got to have a good conversation about being a writer. Like many literature majors, I had a lot of unpublished material stashed away on my hard drive, and big dreams about getting published someday. She listened sympathetically, and we agreed to continue chatting by email. When she first approached me a few weeks later to contribute a story to an anthology she was putting together, I came close to declining. I liked the idea of the book, I told her, but I thought that the accounts I'd read of the women surrounding my writer of choice were so intertwined that it would be difficult to untangle them. Nothing daunted, she advised me how to tackle the problem and encouraged me to proceed.

The research proved rather grueling. My first and main source, the biography of Dickens by Peter Ackroyd, was so long that I despaired of ever finishing it, let alone making any use of it. So, with a heavy heart, I decided to quit. I was actually afraid to tell the editor, because I thought she would be angry or offended. Once again she surprised me by being supremely unruffled; instead of scolding, she managed to convince me, quite gently, that the project was worth doing, and that I could in fact do it. So, reluctant and relieved at the same time, I was back in the saddle again.

I was elated to finish Ackroyd, but as it turned out, he was only the tip of the iceberg. There were books, articles, websites, and even some untried Dickens to discover. I had some stimulating discussions with colleagues and friends (including our former family physician), who listened, encouraged, pointed me to resources, and gave me some delightful ideas. Bernadette even took me to a museum in Dundas, ON, curated by a friend of hers; the furnishings and implements which can be seen there had actually belonged to a nineteenth-century Canadian doctor's office.

At last, feeling very unsure of myself, I began to write. I struggled a lot at first, wrestling with each sentence. But gradually, it became slightly easier. And then one day, something caught fire. Ideas began to come, and they flooded into my brain so fast that I could hardly keep up with them. They would often come early in the morning, shortly after I woke up, and I'd struggle to keep them in my head until I had a chance to scribble them into a notebook.

Finally the first draft was done, and Bernadette liked it, but it needed some work, and she advised me how to change it. I was a bit crestfallen, but went to work obediently. She reacted with such enthusiasm to the second draft that I was startled, but greatly encouraged. However there was much adjusting and tinkering left to do. For one thing, in the flashback scene set on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius, the tour guides spoke in Italian. This seemed fine at first, until I realized that for the story to have accurate local color, they would have to speak in Napoletano. That was a big headache, but thankfully, with the help of two Goodreads friends, I got the problem sorted out too.

So finally my story seemed as ready as we could make it, and we were ready to tackle the next stage: finding a publisher for the anthology. Our editor approached several publishers who seemed intrigued, took the manuscript, kept it for long periods of time--and then returned it with regrets. After a few years of this, even the indomitable Bernadette fell into the slough of despond.

Just when I thought poor Miss Georgina would languish in obscurity forever, a publisher accepted the manuscript. Last revisions were made--including some suggested by a GR beta-reader. And before I knew it, I was sitting at the first book launch holding in my hands a slim paperback with a stunningly elegant cover.

Reading at book launches is somewhat akin to performing in a theater production: you hear people recite the same passages over and over again, and you get a glimpse of some of their gifts as well as their quirks. But it was good to get to know them, and I think that some of the friendships forged in this way will be lasting ones.

So what have I learned from "Maiden Aunt," the story that almost wasn't?

First, writing does not happen in a vacuum. It is inspired by what we have lived, experienced and read. The actual writing may take place in solitude, but I think that the mental picture people have of the author locking him- or herself in a cabin in the woods and emerging some weeks later with a masterpiece is largely false. Writing takes place with the support of others: editors, copy-editors, publishers, beta-readers, experts in various fields of importance to the story, and last but definitely not least, sympathetic listeners.

Second, the first thing you write is not the last thing you do. It doesn't go straight from your keyboard to the local bookstore overnight. Hard work is a must. Overconfidence is dangerous.

But so is a lack of confidence. You may feel that nothing will ever come of your efforts. Publishers may pat you on the head and tell you to shoo. So then you might think about self-publishing, but that too has its pitfalls, or so I'm told. You may get discouraged. But if it is meant to be, then persistence will pay off in the end.

Recently, "Maiden Aunt" astonished me again, by winning in a local writing competition. Bernadette was delighted to hear the news. But at the time I told her, her email was down because of computer woes, so neither of us knew that there was yet another twist of fate in store. Unbeknownst to us, but knownst to the organizers of the competition, she had also won for a piece she had entered in a different category.

The life of a writer is full of surprises.