I don’t really know how to start one of these..
It seems a bit odd…
So here it goes.
I have always wanted to be a writer. Always. I can remember sitting on my mothers bed sometime in my teens, and telling her this. Telling her that I wanted to go to college to major in English so that I could write. For years I had been writing in journals, notebooks, on scraps of papers. I had been cutting out articles from magazines, pages with quotes and statements that resonated with me, and taping them up on my walls. I just wanted to write. That’s all I knew.
I remember parents did exactly what most parents in our time did. They told me I would make no money as a writer, and told me with an English degree I could be a teacher, and that they make no money either. And that was that. There was no further discussion of other careers that would involve writing-advertising, PR, marketing, copyediting and the like. There was no meeting with the guidance counselor to discuss colleges or other options. I actually remember my mother saying to me that ‘you know you just want to be a wife and mother, so what’s the point?’ She told me to find a job, some sort of a skill and to start my resume.
Let’s put a disclaimer in here: I don’t blame my parents. I don’t believe in blaming my parents for their choices. They did their very best with all of us and there is little I would change. She was not so far off the mark there-let’s be honest. This last year, I believe I uttered those exact words several times over as I cursed Hillary Clinton for begrudging those of us who want bake cookies and raise kids. They were just raised differently. Of course they wanted their children to do better and have more than they did. Of course they wanted them to succeed in business, in life and have a career or job. But college? That kind of career? Um, no.
So here I am, 20+ years later. I have 2 amazing children and a prince of a husband who has put up with me for 16 years. I have had jobs, and careers and stopped and started more classes and struggled with the ageless quandary ‘what do I want to do when I grow up’ so many times I’ve lost count. And there is one singular constant in my life to this day.
I want to write.
And fortunately for me the advances in the internet and social media and computers and apps have been amaaaazing and allow me to do that now. Who could have dreamed that 20 years after learning shorthand, we would have Google translator and voice to text and Siri?! If I had only known that one day I would have access to ebooks and pins and blogs and online submissions to countless outlets-I would have-what? Gone to college? Who knows…
I do know that I should have continued to write. I should not have boxed up my journals and notebooks and put them in the attic. I should not have set aside what felt so natural to me.
So here I am. I have started at this page countless times. What am I supposed to say? Better yet, who cares what I have to say? I am not perfect, or an expert, and I certainly don’t know everything there is to know about anything, but I am just going to go for it. I am going to write about what speaks to me, or moves me, what makes me laugh, or cry. I am just going to post-poems, thoughts, ideas, and even some pictures. Maybe something will speak to you, or help you, or just make you feel less out there, less alone in your thoughts and ideas. Because really, isn’t that what we are all looking for?
Anyway, I read that when you blog you should find a niche, corner, a market, be an expert on whatever it is that you are writing. That even your blog name should reflect your intent, your target audience, say something about you.
For Pete’s sake, my blog name would have to have been www.Fortysomethingmomwantstowriteandpostpicsandpoemsandstartdoingwhatsheloveswhileshefiguresitallout.com
Whew. So, I am just going to be myself, maybe my niche will find me.