Dear Reader of This Why,
Before I became a teacher I used to write everyday. I used to be a writer. I had volumes of journals and belonged to a weekly writing group. I submitted my workshopped stories to reputable literary magazines and had a wall covered in rejection letters. Some of my stories were published and won prizes. I was a writer. It would probably have seemed absurd to any casual observer but I actually had a plan, and the plan was coming together.
But something happened and the chain was broken. I applied to a couple MFA programs but didn’t get admitted, and got increasingly tired of the rejection letters. Every day felt like one step forward and twelve steps back, and my financial situation had become tenuous to say the least. The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune conspired to alter my plan. Searching for more stable and fulfilling employment I went back to school to get my teaching credential, secretly thinking being a teacher would provide me with oodles of extra time for writing. How naive I was. I was so busy I soon stopped writing everyday, and writing anything at all got harder and harder, like a muscle atrophied by neglect. These days all I seem to have time to write are email replies to parents, grant proposals, and common core assessment rubrics. I have been teaching nine years now and I have so many ideas and life experiences bubbling just below the surface, waiting to come out.
I’m hoping this blog will help pop the cork.