I don’t remember becoming a writer. For as long as I can remember, I've always been writing a story in my head. When I was a kid, I would come up with my own movie endings and music videos. My crayon drawings always had elaborate back stories. Somehow I wanted a larger life than the one I was living. I guess that’s how you start writing fiction.
It seems that I've always kept a journal. Writing short stories in middle school and poems in high school. In high school I worked on the school paper and enjoyed every minute. In college I was the only student in the required upper division writing class that was excited to be there. I wrote seven papers that semester, to me it was heaven.
After college I grew up. Worked in retailing because that was my degree said I was to so, and soon became a wife and then a mother.
That’s where my writing life took a turn.
Modern motherhood can be a lonely place if you’re not perfect. That was my truth ten years ago when I became a mother. The requirements were many, breast feeding, sleeping through the night at 8 weeks, no nipple confusion, no co sleeping, Ferberizing. You had to follow ridiculous rules to prove your worth. Not only was I lonely but I felt like a failure. I talked endlessly with my best friend, who thankfully didn’t co sign for the modern rules of motherhood. Still, we couldn’t be the only moms in the world struggling and adjusting to this life. There had to be more moms out there in the world co sleeping and bottle feeding.
There were. I realized by joining Facebook. Friends I had in high school, college roommates, and friends of friends. Sharing online was thrilling and affirming. I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t a failure. I didn’t have to be perfect, I could just be me. As soon as I realized that, I found my words and started a blog.
My blog, this one you are reading, began as a place to tell funny/semi serious stories about motherhood. To be honest about living the stay at home mom dream. To deal with everyday disasters that were small but sometimes deflating. The more I wrote the better I felt. I was finally a writer.
I had finally found my voice. Finally I had something to say.
So I said it. I’m still saying it, about motherhood and so much more. I’ve taken brakes. Fallen off the wagon. Suffered writers block. But like any good and great love, I always come back for more.
How did I become I writer?
I started writing.
