Carla Joinson |
 |
I lived ten years in St. Louis, Missouri, but I “grew up” in the small town of West Frankfort, Illinois. Most of my parents’ relatives lived in the area, so I was given the gift of close kinship, but that was one of the few positive aspects that I saw in the move. As my high school days drew to a close, it was obvious that career opportunities would be either slim or none for those of us who chose to stay in West Frankfort. At the time, all the good jobs, and by that I merely mean well paying, were in the coal mines, and women weren’t allowed to work there. I had no desire whatsoever to take shorthand and typing - typical “business” courses for girls in high school — or to settle down and raise a family. All I really wanted to do was leave.
Unfortunately, I discovered that it took money to pull up stakes and go live somewhere else. I did leave home after I graduated from high school, but could only manage to move a block away from my parents—there weren’t many apartments in this town, either. I worked at a nursing home, and finally decided that if I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life emptying bedpans and performing associated duties, I needed to go to college. I managed to leave town to attend Southern Illinois University in Carbondale, Illinois, but knew that if I wanted to leave the area entirely, I needed a greater kick in the behind than I could provide for myself. I joined the Air Force and went to South Dakota.
As an officer in a Services Squadron, I did everything from inspect dead bodies to pitch tents to modify budgets. I thoroughly enjoyed my time on active duty, but felt too much pressure as a young mother to continue in the military. (Oh, I guess I did end up changing my mind about that settling down business.) I worked in an administrative position when my husband and I moved to Michigan, but when our son turned five, I had the opportunity to begin a freelance writing career.
I had begun writing with a particular audience in mind when my fifth-grade teacher allowed me to read stories in front of class. The stories—usually spy or adventure yarns—revolved around characters that were also kids in the class. As a writer, I felt tremendous pride when a classmate would catch up to me later and say, “Carla, put me in the next one.” I’ve never had such a receptive audience since.
A great deal of my published work has been business nonfiction, but I’ve always kept my love for fiction alive by writing stories I thought my son would like. I went from picture books to middle grade novels to young adult as he grew older, and I find myself now concentrating on young adult fiction. My book A Diamond in the Dust is a tribute to the area where I grew up—the coal-mining region of southern Illinois.
Time can do strange things, like teach you that your own heritage is well worth knowing. When I had been away long enough to miss some of things I took for granted growing up, I began to look around with more interest during my visits. I developed a deep respect for the courage and strength of the early coal miners who endured sometimes unbelievably harsh conditions. Nowadays, I’m glad I grew up where I did, had the experiences — both good and bad—that I did, made the choices and mistakes that I did. They are all fuel for the imagination and allow me to interpret and construct those experiences into new lives for the characters I create. I wouldn’t change a thing.
|
|
|
Email Alerts
To keep up-to-date, input your email address, and we will contact you on publication
|
|
|
