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My love of writing started in the fourth grade when I was the only student in my class who got a perfect score on the state writing test. It was like those cartoons where the lightbulb lights up over the character’s head when they have an idea. Or in my case, an epiphany. (Wait, do fourth graders qualify for epiphanies? They aren’t age specific right?)
From there, my writing evolved as it does when you start writing as a nine year old. I actually think that I did more reading than writing in my younger years. But it definitely helped me find my love of the written word. (Thus firmly establishing the nerdy background that would form my middle and high school experiences.)
I’m not sure if it’s a rite of
passage (pun intended) or if it was just a weirdo me thing, but I feel like a
lot of writers go through an angsty poetry phase. At least I did. As a teenager
I even had a few of them published. (For a nominal fee of course.) Still, there
was something thrilling about seeing my name in print with other wanna be
poets that was satisfying to my artistic soul.
I had a long lull between the
angsty poems and the blog. In fact, the blog wasn’t even my idea. It was a
coworker who thought that my humor and cynicism should be shared with the
world. (So if you’re wondering who unleashed this ranting, blabbermouth onto
society, you can blame her!) I’m not sure I agree some months, when I’m in a
creative slump and don’t have one original thought populating in my brain, but
I continue to string words together in hopes that they have some sense of
cohesion.
You may be thinking that the
natural evolution of my writing would then be a book, right? Well, I would like
to say that you’d be wrong (just because I’m contrary today) but alas, I have “started
writing” a few books in my time. The problem is that they tell you to “write
about what you know”. I know how to be a sarcastic smart ass with a strange outlook
on everything. That doesn’t really translate into book material. Or maybe it
would, if I was a well-known comedian and not just some common
Jane who writes as a hobby.
Plus, there are a lot of questions
that come with writing a book. How do I get published? How much rejection could
I handle before crashing out? Who would even read my book? What if I failed?
Worse, what if I succeeded?
And therein lies the crux of the
problem.
What if I accidentally became
famous (or, well, famous adjacent) and had to actually do book tours and meet
people and be (shudder) social? I don’t think I’d like that at all. There are
days when I am not sure I can handle going to work because of the people
component. (I mean, I still go, but very grudgingly.) I know there are people who think I am joking when I say
I am an introvert, because I can be quite social, but I’m dead serious
about my solitude. In a perfect world, I win the lottery and buy a house with
an acre on each side of me, just to avoid having neighbors. Not that I dislike
my current neighbors, but because peopleing in general would be discouraged in
my fortress of solitude.
So if you really want to know,
yes, I am an author. Of 4 starting chapters, one full book outline, and 12
harebrained mental outlines of things that I’ve briefly considered writing
about. Maybe one day I’ll push past that anti-social devil on my shoulder and
live la vida writer. Until then, can I interest anyone in a mildly amusing
short story?
Find me on FaceBook at Modern Mom Mayhem.
I’m sometimes found on Instagram (@modernmommayhem)
