You'll Never Know Until You Try

For a number of years, I fancied myself a writer. I had a flair for it, but not the skills; I just thought I had them. I wrote stories and submitted them to agents, convinced I was on my way to the top. Rejections piled up. Eventually I had to admit that if I was ever going to learn the craft, I’d have to go back to school. With no clear idea of the toll this would take, I enrolled in classes.

I was usually the oldest person in the room. I don’t like being the oldest anything, but I was on a mission. A full-time job meant I had to attend classes at night, even in winter, and Chicago’s winters can be pretty tough. Once in a while I could take a day class by using lunch hours and vacation time, but those were few and far between. Sometimes I wanted to quit. Finally, after sticking it out for six years, I had a BA in English Studies and a Masters in Writing and Publishing. Thanks to my husband (aka the man of my dreams) I was able to quit my office job, take a teaching position at DePaul University, and get up close and personal with writing. I wrote a nonfiction piece that got picked up by Sierra Magazine and then...nothing. I revisited a short story I'd written in grad school titled THE SILENCE OF BONAVENTURE ARROW. It was thirteen pages long. And then I set to work.

Take heart, writers.