I'm composing this as I'm on my way to BlogHer ' 12. Can I tell you what a great feeling this is?
For years I journaled and wrote and essayed and memoired. In the early days it was pen and paper and just for me and the occasional select few I allowed to read my meanderings. Then one day, I discovered this thing called an internet and from there I began an online journal. That branched into a blog, which lead to another blog, which led to a real, bona-fide paid blogging job, which led to me finally, FINALLY thinking of myself as a writer.
It's silly, isn't it? I mean, I've always been a writer and no "sort of" about it. It's who I am. It's what I do.
Through high school and college and marriage and jobs and kids and divorce, through love and loss and everything in between, I have always written. Always.
Why should the fact that someone pays me for it legitimize it somehow? For that matter, why should anyone reading what I wrote (or not) make me any less of what I am?
I'm a mother. I'm a woman. I'm a blogger. It's who I am. It's what I do.
And I'll make no apologies for any of it.
I'll just keep telling my story, and reading the fascinating stories of others. Together, our voices are changing the world.
And that, my friends, is a very good thing
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