masking & unveiling

One year ago today, entirely on a whim, I got bored with my pregnancy ankles and heartburn and bed rest and started this blog. I have learned two Very Important Truths since then:

1) There are some things your husband would rather you not tell to The Internet, and
2) I am a writer whether I like it or not.

For most of my life, I have denied it.

In high school, I stopped mentioning it after one too many You'll-Never-Make-a-Living-Doing-That smiles. In college, I read biographies of authors famous and infamous, and never saw myself in their compulsions to create, or in their self-imposed requirements of so many pages per day.

In my 20s, I pimped out my prose to that john called Advertising — dangerous liaisons of pride, creativity and money that always dropped me back where I was before, standing on the street corner of Dreams and Necessity.

It nearly killed the love of words in me.

But this crazy little blog changed all that. I never imagined it I'd keep it up. Instead it has kept me up, awakening some long-dead part of me that weighs words and phrases "like jewels held up to the light." This year has taught me that being a writer is different than just being a good writer; for the first time in my life, I have something I'd do if nobody cared but me.

Though I do thank you for caring while I figured it out.