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She Can’t Write

September 1, 2011

“Dude, what is she thinking? I’m the writer. She can’t write!”

“She doesn’t need to be wasting her time on the computer when she has kids and a career. She can’t write.”

She can’t write. That would be me those two people were talking about up there in those two quotes. She is me, the one that neither apparently has any faith in, sad part here is that they are two of my family members. So, I write in secret. I stopped telling people I write, maybe because I feel inadequate and self-conscious about my “writing resume”. Most people think that in order to write a book or something that you must have this long line of credentials. Like, in order to write a book of some sort, I must have a PhD from Oxford or Harvard or some really important university – instead of my four-year degree that took six, from the University of Wyoming. Then, apparently, you must have a blog visited by half a million people and then that newspaper column that everyone in town can not wait to read every week. Well, then I am the antithesis of a writer.

I have a bachelors in elementary Education and I am proud of it, even though I have only used it for a few years in my life. Actually, I went the opposite direction, I help the elderly at this point in my life. I am an entrepreneur, I started my own business that helps the elderly and disabled at home. Then I decided to write because I find that it is equally – if not more – satisfying. Writing stories about “mi vida loca” – or my crazy life, is therapeutic for me. I am learning so much about myself and my life, I figure at this pace, I am going to be a master at – er – me. ME University is going to give me a PhD about myself, how does that look on a resume? I am a master of my own domain – um – I mean I have mastered myself – er. You know what I mean?

No? I find that writing a memoir that details profound and/or difficult times in my life aids in my processing and making sense of those experiences. Then I learn from them, more better. More betta. Yea. Writing makes me mo’ betta’. That’s it for now.

I CAN write because I am good enough, smart enough, and gosh darn it – I am mo’ betta’.

3 Comments leave one →
  1. September 3, 2011 2:48 am

    yes! you rawk, dawg-gonnit!

    • September 3, 2011 12:10 pm

      Oh this is a moment, whatis, my first comment from someone else. Thank you. Ah, thank you verah much.


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