The Writer

The universe was sending me a message.

I used to write professionally. Got paid to draft boring government documents, the occasional speech or news release. It was a good gig. Paid well. I learned a ton and generally liked the mission and people.

But after more than a decade doing the same work, it gets BORING. I decided to be the change I wanted to see in the world. Not really. I’m not even sure what that means. I just needed CHANGE.

Now I’m in grad school. I’m working on a novel. When I’m sick of the novel, I write other stuff and sometimes post whatever-it-is here on the ol’ blog or submit whatever-it-is to journals, like Narrative Magazine.

Here is my story reduced to a personal ad:

GIRL SEEKS MASTER of Fine Arts. Complicated stories and graphic novels okay. Not interested in egos. Or trying too hard.

Girl enjoys things that smell good, peeled oranges, warm places like in a steam room and by a fireplace and on a tropical island. Also likes pilates, massages, reading in a comfy chair, free-range chickens, and moments when you realize some big thing. An ah-ha moment about life, for example.

Like how no matter what you do, grime builds up on every single surface. And someone has to clean those surfaces–even the window sills.

The girl doesn’t want to be that sill-cleaning someone. She’s too busy writing this web page in creepy third person. Or typing a story for Hot Pink Underwear.

Don’t worry. The blog’s not actually about panties. And eventually the girl will clean the sills.

5 thoughts on “The Writer

  1. Love this….the sills will always be waiting. Great observation “creepy third person!” ….always hated writing those bios. I know “why” now….it’s just creepy to talk about you while pretending it’s not you…creepy…creepy…creepy…said the one blogger to the other with much admiration and jest.

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