Before I started college my Mama asked me a very simple questions, “Kati, why aren’t you majoring in English?”

I brushed her off, reminded her my scholarships were dependent on my degree in theater, and that I didn’t like analyzing literary works for their hidden meanings.

“But, you love to write.”

And that was true. On days that I wasn’t in rehearsal, or even when I was, I was always scratching away at a new General Hospital FanFic (Liz and Lucky 4ever) or writing something for a friend. Sometimes I’d attempt my own stuff, my own characters, my own settings, but they never went very far. But, I was always writing.

And the truth? The reason I didn’t major in English? I didn’t feel like I was smart enough. I understood how theater worked. I understood auditions and stage management. I didn’t always understand when to use a semicolon or the difference between the direct object and indirect object. I was afraid that the little romance stories I liked to tell weren’t “real” enough for an academic major.

And there are days, still, that I don’t feel smart enough. Sometimes it’s because I spend a lot of time asking my children very rudimentary questions (Do you need to potty? Are you hungry? How many bats do you see?). Sometimes it’s because I’m short on sleep and too much caffeine. And sometimes it’s because I don’t feel like my little stories are good enough.

But, I write anyway.



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