The Story of Writing

It all started back when I was a kid and my parents bought me a diary with a lock on it for my 8th birthday.  I filled the whole book day by day with all the things I did with things I did.   As I got older and continued writing in diaries, they went through the "boyfriend" stage beginning in about 8th grade. I wrote  who was my boyfriend and how we were perfect for each other.  Two weeks later  the relationship would start to crumble and I would write about how my whole life was ruined and life could not go on. This stage lasted some 20 years and at least 20 boyfriend whom I miraculously survived.

I got my first computer in 1999 and in 2004 began writing again at the discovery of the "BLOG".  What a wonderful world it was.  I had my first kiddo and it was necessary that everyone on the Wide World Web know what funny things he did.  As the years went by I gained more and more readers and I became more controversial in my writings and people still read it even more.  I was getting over 100 readers a week and if I didn't write something for a few days people would start sending emails in fear I had stopped writing all together.  Then life happened and I went through a drought for a few years after my divorce and didn't start writing again until I remarried.

My husband who has been so supportive of me and my endless ideas of what I want to be when I grow up enjoys my writings because I don't sugar coat anything and I'm funny.  I've read other mom's blogs and I almost throw up in my own mouth while they write page after page of "my life is so wonderful" and "my kids are so perfect".  Very boring and I seriously think women make blogs like that to try and make others think they have a perfect, wonderful life and others should be envious of them.  Gag me with a spoon.  The only two blogs that have any honest worthiness at all are my aunt Kay's http://stammhouse.blogspot.com/
and my old high school friend Jenni's   http://down-to-earthgirl.blogspot.com/ .

For the past 10 years I've had the same reoccurring dream about once every other month.  I move to UofA to get a Master Degree.  It's very vivid where I'm not married nor have any children in the dream.  I'd been thinking about going back to school to get my Master's for quite some time.  All of my cousins have Master's, my dad has one, and my brother is about to finish his so I have been feeling intellectually inferior to my family for quite some time.  I began searching schools I could get a Master's degree in Creative Writing online (since I'm sorta tied down to this house for the next umpteen years) and came to the conclusion that unless I want to get into at least $24k of debt I need to rethink this whole higher degree thing. I really wanted to be one of the 7% of the population that has a Master's degree but I can't justify the expense for what I would achieveably obtain in career advancement.  Looking over some of the great author's, J.D. Salinger, Hunter S. Thompson, Earnest Hemingway, and Mark Twain, none had more than a semester of college.  Perhaps, college would have stifled their creative genius and the extraordinary would have become ordinary.

So today I sit and contemplate not which Master's Degree program to enroll in but rather which Community college class will which will enroll in to learn to improve my writing skills and teach me how to get published in something more than my little blog. A far cry from my original dream but a path less traveled may lead to great things.