Writer By Coincidence

It’s been 2 years since my first article published and an amazing journey it’s been. Every day is a new opportunity and I’ve accepted every single challenge, even some that scared me to death. Never once did I consider becoming a writer, never noticed my favorite movies were about writers or even add up that all I ever wanted to do was write in my journals. Writing, although my obvious calling, was the very last thing I ever took seriously. A hobby turned lifestyle has placed me beside some of my idols, front row in NY Fashion Week and published on international platforms. The one thing I excelled in has been forced on my lap and I love the shit out of it.

Writing about my love affairs, feelings, challenges and myself was my only outlet as an only child to sincerely deposit my emotions and tuck them away. Archives of first dates, kisses and etc. are stored in my attic and a funny reminder of the girl who once was. I use them as my yesteryear references and chart my growth by the years dated on the pages. How I laugh at what once grinded my gears…sigh. Writing was my exhale moment at the end of the day.

Today as I discover my voice and jot notes during interviews, I find myself challenging my skillset everyday. Proper punctuation is obviously something I stress and by no means do I favor a style, just want to be legible. I remember when I was in high school, a nameless friend use to correct my love letters. Grammar was not a priority back then but those small edits stuck with me. Funny how life preps you and you don’t even know it.

As for my movie and sitcoms of choice, all writers or book related. Coincidence? How could I never notice something so obvious? I was a writer since before I could remember. My childhood favorites always had a book involved, the Never Ending Story, Peter Pan and Beauty and the Beast played on repeat. Growing up in the library and ultimately elected on the Board of Trustees. I had a deep love affair with visually pleasing pages and ignored it.

I recently read a meme that said, "Be the person you wished you had growing up?" I needed someone to just tell me, "Marjoriet, write." Instead I heard go to college, study to graduate with a degree and get paid. Yes, obviously this is what I needed to hear but instead I rebelled and left unguided. Put my books away and took the long rode to self-discovery.

I had only one person mention my writing, he knew. He sat with me in bookstores and read with me in silence. Our quiet time was never awkward. It was productive. In silence he knew I was doing exactly what I needed to be doing. Now all these years later, I remember the books I read in those stolen moments, words I wrote and reflect on the ink spilled to capture those mere seconds. My yesteryears were inspired by pale horses and codes. I knew briefly this was my calling then.

Today I sit with artist who I've recited in a trance and listen to their stories. All this babble in this post relates to each and every story I've since written. Years of dark paths, endless journeys and dead-ends leading to finding their purpose. They inspired me and helped lead me to this title of "writer." Their stories in my words are the nudges gratifying time pounding keys and scribbles in notebooks. They are the people I needed, although I've heard them, seen them or somehow were indirectly enjoying their craft...they suffered the battles of proving their talents, finding themselves and ultimately delivering what we love so much...their voice.