I’m still trying to figure out this medium algorithm. Maybe I’m thinking too hard.
For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to be a writer. I read I know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou and was convinced writing was my career path. However, I was discouraged early by the people who were supposed to encourage me the most.
“There’s no money in writing, you need to find a job that will get you paid.” A random family member suggested.
So, I tucked away my dreams of becoming a struggling writer who finally hit it big with a novel she’s been working on for years. I got practical. I tried college, then the Navy, trade school and then traditional college again. I was depressed and on the verge of suicide because nothing I did made me happy. I didn’t feel fulfilled. I felt myself thinking of myself in an early grave. I thought about my future, I thought about my family, I thought about missed opportunities, I thought about my low self-esteem, and again I thought about ending it all. I didn’t think I would ever believe in myself as a person, let alone a writer again.
It wasn’t until I decided to sign up for a creative writing class at my local community college that the spark within me was lit again. I received compliments from my teacher and construction criticism where it was warranted. I was even published in the school…
