For 25 years, I’ve been writing. When I was 8 years old, my mother gave me a red diary with teddy bears printed all over its cover—and a writer was born.
Fast forward to age 13. I wrote my first “novel,” which was actually more of a short story although it was over 50 pages long (in bubbly teenager handwriting). It was called “The Tracks” and was about a group of friends who set off on an adventure following their town’s railroad tracks. I can’t remember now what happened once the story really got on with it, but I do remember the looseleaf pages clipped together with binder rings and the blue, pink, and purple ink I used to handwrite them.
Fast forward to age 16. I moved back to my hometown and met my neighbor across the street, Melanie. Together, we wrote pretty awful poetry about our feelings and then we self-published it and sold it to our classmates. I think we called it “Rages of the Moon” or something like that.
At age 20, I enrolled in an Advanced Creative Writing course at my college. My short story, “First Trip,” received kudos from my peers. Re-reading it now, though, I can’t believe just how terrible it was! I sure hope I’ve come a long way since then.
At age 26, I got my first writing-related job—as an editor for a small publishing company. Ok, so maybe it’s not really writing related exactly, but hey—helping others perfect their writing was as close as I could get to writing something of my own at that time, given my extreme anxiety about sharing information with others who may judge me for it!
At the ripe old age of 29, I decided I didn’t like 20+ years of diaries boxed up and lugged from apartment to apartment to my first home and to who-knows-where after that. I even thought about what would happen to all my inked secret thoughts if, gasp, I should die! Images of my loved ones sitting around reading about my debaucheries scared the living daylights out of me. So after much deliberation, it came to me—keep the diaries that were written during important times in my life and toss the others. I spent an afternoon on my bedroom floor, my carpet and my legs covered in diaries. It was fun (and a bit scary) to relive a lot of experiences I’d completely forgotten about over the years—the boys I’d dated (those I should have treated better, as well as those I should never have given the time of day), the parties (including those I had thrown myself), all the bad poetry I’d written in my teenage angst, the ranting about friends who’d scorned me, the bout with depression at age 21, the pages written about this new guy I met (who would later become my husband and the father of my sweet baby boy), and so on and so on. There were an awful lot of memories in those diaries, but mostly I discovered the diaries kind of served as a venting ground for many moments I’d really rather forget. So it became easier than I expected to simply throw them into the garbage dumpster outside of my apartment—after carefully tearing certain pages into pieces, of course! You never know who might go dumpster diving, read my life story, and publish it on the Internet! I believe I’m currently down to maybe 4 or 5 diaries buried in a box in my basement—diaries that wouldn’t mortify anyone I love, I hope.
Today I’m launching my blog. I figured, I’ve been writing for so long that it seems like the next logical step is to blog about my life. Surely there’s a pearl somewhere in this head of mine that might somehow help someone, or at least serve as a source of amusement during someone’s superboring work day. I thought long and hard about blogging—my main concern was that I probably don’t have anything interesting to say (who could possibly care about my baby, my struggles with postpartum depression, my insane obsession with The OC). But you know what? I stopped caring about that and what you are reading here is my attempt to stop my self-conscious thoughts from keeping me from doing something that is so natural to me. So here I am.
I expect my blog will take a more defined shape as I go along, as blogs often do. But for now, consider it part new-mommy blog, part everything-else blog. Hope you enjoy it. And if you don’t, well, whatever.