About me: life as a writer

My destiny was revealed to me in the third grade when my short story entry, My Pet Dinosaur won the gold ribbon in the district wide writing contest. Lapeer County is a large district, with three rural elementary schools; at Elba, I was a celebrity, having beaten every single third grade competitor in my county. Imagine the blow to my ego when as a fourth grader, my entry earned me an ugly, generic red ribbon–third place. I was crushed. I cried all day, and my classmates laughed because I had gotten just what I deserved for being such a narcissistic bitch.

My tenth grade creative writing teacher didn’t like me. He thought my subject matter was “too adult” and my language was unnecessarily “Jane Austen-ish.” That son-of-a-bitch had probably never read one full page of an Austen novel. I choked on C grades all semester. For one project, I wrote a screenplay about a teenage girl contemplating suicide. I was called to his desk, and he explained that because it was technically well written, he wouldn’t give me an F. Fuuuhhh…

College comp was the best. Because I was the best again. Mr. Awesome Guy Who Knows A Thing Or Twelve told me so after the last day of class had ended. He was always boasting about how difficult it was to earn a final grade of A+ in his class. I was the only student who did that term.

In my early twenties, I was hot and heavy with a dude called Fantasy; my favorite author being Terry Brooks–gaahhh! Because of Brooks’ Shannara series, I’d decided I wanted to write a fantasy novel. I didn’t have a computer, so I began writing a manuscript old-school style. I filled three giant notebooks before I was given an outdated IBM ThinkPad. It was during the process of transferring my 100% unique fantasy manuscript to the computer that I realized my story was totally derivative of The Elfstones of Shannara. Damn it!

In my late twenties, a friend convinced me to join Myspace–I had a big girl computer by that point. First, I called myself Polythene Pam, then later Pammy Pamtastico! My blog was bangin’ with subscribers. I composed shitty poetry, ranted about everything under the sun, moon, and stars; comedy and satire were my M.O. Then Myspace became the loser on the playground, and I moved to Facebook with all of the mature, boring people.

I’m in my late thirties now, and writing is as awesome a bitch as ever. And I love her more than I ever have because every setback ultimately builds me up bigger and better. I have a completed novel currently being read by a publisher, about half of my next novel (which will be part of a series of three) finished, and Santa’s bag full of ideas for future manuscripts.

To all of you future novelists out there: believe in yourself, believe in your words, and never stop.

 

 

 

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