So, last week, I left my job. I was working at a rehab center for drug and alcohol addicts and teaching creative writing. Wow, how do I even begin to tell you about that amazing experience? The kids changed my life. So did the stories I heard from people in recovery. (More on this as the blog develops.)
But there is something else out there for me. I wanted, and have always wanted, to be a writer. Below is a picture of my new writing desk. A friend was clearing out her apartment, and she gave me the desk for $10. The old desk was a tiny IKEA mess.
All along the walls of my room are post-it notes with ideas for stories. Some of them will be unsuccessful; others, I believe, will be published stories, poems, and other projects. And it’s only the beginning. So let me tell you a bit about what I learned over the last year that has prepared for this journey.
When I was working at the rehab center, I was commuting from Long Beach to Woodland Hills. Now, if you know nothing about Southern California, let me put this into context. Five days a week, I drove 44 miles in the worst traffic in the country, which sometimes would take me two hours one way. That’s like driving from the East Coast of Florida to Tampa. Basically, I found myself staring into brake-light machinery that devoured my spirit. And while I was stuck in that traffic, I was checking my phone to see if I received an e-mail — oh that glorious electronic ticket — that my novel was finally accepted for representation by a literary agent. Continue reading “The Beginning of a Journey”