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I like Tuesdays. It's the day after Monday, so we've gotten that out of the way. Yesterday I talked about my younger experiences, but today I'm going to fast-forward to when I first started getting serious about writing as a career.

I was taking a creative writing class at the local community college. I had 5 children at the time, so I only took two classes at a time. It was nice because this was an evening class, so my husband at the time could watch the kids while I was gone. There were about a dozen of us in the class. What I took away with me from that experience was that I started to believe I wasn't actually such a bad writer. I got some much needed self-confidence. I remember getting a zing! go through my body whenever I thought about writing as a career. I knew that with my kids still small I didn't have any extra time to devote to writing, but I kept it in my heart that some day something really great could happen.

All during this time I was delivering babies at home. I thought a lot about what grist for the mill these experiences were. Even though I still haven't written about birth, I think the intensity of the birth experience has helped me with my writing. Birth is powerful and rewarding on so many levels. It's a part of who I was and who I have become.

I took every class that had to do with writing, slowly, but surely: screenwriting, women's literature (mostly from long ago), more creative writing classes, the history of the movies, etc. The last one was a gem. I thought seriously about writing for the movies, and this was the perfect learning ground for that. I still think I'll write a screenplay one day. I've started several, and wrote one for my class, but I don't think it's good enough yet.

Then I wrote a play. Angel in the House. It started out as the final for the Women's Lit. class, but turned into a full-fledged three-act play. You see, the teacher bugged me... a lot. I dared to disagree with her interpretation of a few poems, some Emily Dickinson. I felt they were open for interpretation, she felt she knew exactly what Emily was trying to say. Anyway, she took a disliking towards me and it was reflected in my grades. Needless to say, I was furious. So I decided to blow her away with the final. I worked every spare minute on that play. It was about three different women from three different centuries, and what it was like for them to try to write. I was fascinated with how easy it was, not to mention fun, to write about these women. I loved bringing them to life on the page. I felt all powerful. I did lose a lot of sleep, though, waiting for the kids to go to bed before I took to the keyboard. When I got my play back from the teacher there was an A+ at the top. I was overjoyed. I had beat her. Not only that, but I proved something very important to myself: I was a writer!