My Writing

I’ve always disliked clichés, but turns out I am one!

The reader who wants to be a writer.

Since I was old enough to understand stories, it has been my passion, my hobby, my drive from somewhere unknown, to write fiction. And before I understood that concept, I was testing out this innate compulsion, as a child, by constantly lying.

The change from liar to storyteller came during one winter, back in the very early 90s. I couldn’t have been older than 7. It was well past my bedtime. The snow had been coming down for hours, creating an undisturbed blanket of white. Instead of sleeping, I was looking out my window. I thought, It’s so beautiful and creepy out there. Wouldn’t it be so scary if there was a man lurking in my backyard?

So, I told my mom there was. She called the cops. The constable said to me, “There are no footprints in the snow.” And my lie was blown! My mother was furious.

After that, my stories were always confined to the page.

1997. I saw the movie Scream for the first time. I became obsessed immediately, and everything fell into place for me. I realized, I need to write stories like that!

And so I did. Multiple different variations of Scream involving me and my friends being murdered by a knife-wielding maniac. I’d make my stepdad read them. He would leave me short 5-star reviews on Post-it notes stuck to the title page.

Eighth grade. I give my English teacher a short story I had written for critique, like I was in some kind of fucking writer’s group. The story was about an FBI agent with psychic abilities hunting a serial killer. I was heavily influenced by the show Profiler. Anyone remember that one? My teacher — shoutout to Mr. Mulder — calls my mother and tells her he’s worried about me. Why I would write something so dark? He wants my mom to come in for a meeting. My mom tells him, “She’s a writer!”

All through high school and college, I was writing. Taking courses, getting feedback from teachers, instructors and professors to keep going, keep writing. And I did, but not with any kind of serious dedication. I lacked confidence. And life had a way of beating me down. I was just trying to survive. But all throughout, I have started and stopped, and left unfinished, multiple different stories that I had intended to turn into novels. What’s new?

Recently, my desire to DO SOMETHING with writing has grown more serious. Wanting to get better, to learn more, to be more committed to what I love to do. Maybe it’s being so close to 40. Maybe it’s because I know myself so much better now than at any other point in my life. Maybe it’s that I feel like I’m finally making intentional decisions for myself and my future; knowing what I want my life to look like and going for it.

This feels like the right time, finally.

To start, I want to take writing courses. I recently finished my first course through Gotham Writers. I learned so much, gained a bit of confidence, and changed my intentions for writing. I still want to finish that novel I’ve been working on for the last six years, but in the meantime, I’m going to cut my teeth on the brevity of short stories. Something I’ve never really done before.

Wouldn’t it be so perfect if I had a place to post them?

Oh, turns out I do.

I will be posting all my short stories to this space, including any pieces that are spawned from my writing courses. I don’t expect anyone to really read these things, I’m doing this for me. But if you happen to be interested, that’s so nice!

With that said, if you’ve made it this far, welcome to my writing space!

Until then…