I don’t remember a time when I didn’t have a voice in my head that explained the world to me, when I didn’t have reams of paper and notebooks, when I didn’t have stories and characters to entertain me.
I believed my mom when she said I could write stories, poetry, plays, just about anything.
But college had other ideas about what writing should be and other opinions as to my writing abilities.
I escaped into reading, unconsciously absorbing mountains of mentor texts from Joan Didion to Wallace Stegner.
Three careers and hundreds of memos later, I started teaching writing, showing others the way to a writing life, and in the process I found my own.