Looking out my backdoor: Why I'm not a real writer
Last updated 9/17/2020 at 7:44am
Several years ago I attended a prestigious writers’ conference in Seattle. It was time. I was committed. I paid a bundle.
The conference offered a chance to mingle with real writers, to talk with agents and editors, to attend numerous workshops; an immersion in the literary world.
Already, I knew I was not a real writer. I did not set a schedule to write daily, come fire or flood or dark of night. When my babies were babies I did not lock myself in the bathroom with my portable typewriter at 3 in the morning to write undisturbed by night terrors or pounding of tiny fists by little crea...