Welcome to my self-indulgent location for the stories (good and bad) that I can't prevent myself from writing. All comments and criticisms welcome. I post on Tuesdays and Saturdays.

About Me

Aspiring Writing / Recovering Linguist

As a kid, I wrote fiction. A lot. I won't say it was good--and I have no intention to go back looking for some of it on the 3.5" floppies and old notebooks to say otherwise--but it was something. As I recall, I wrote at least one horror novel, a science fiction/fantasy crossover, and several short stories. (Oh, and the butchered attempt at poetry, but we don't have to talk about that.)

I went off to college, ready to tackle a Creative Writing major. Through several discussions with advisers, parents, friends, etc., I changed my major to Integrated International Studies. Writing fell to the side, and virtually disappeared. I spent my time reading histories, ethnographies, and political tomes, with the occasional piece of fiction thrown in for good measure.

Rynek Główny, Kraków, Poland
Photo courtesy of Wiki Commons
Fast forward several years. I find myself happily married, living in Kraków, Poland, teaching English as a Foreign Language, and loving it. I'm searching for a "field", as I'd always seen myself getting a higher degree. But while we're living there, I'm floundering, looking for an artistic outlet. I consider painting, though I've never been good at 2D. After a while, I give up searching. I realize how much I enjoy linguistics. I apply to graduate school.

Photo courtesy of Wiki Commons
Fast forward a few more years. Now living in Indiana, a PhD student in Slavic Linguistics at Indiana University. Take sudoku (which I love), add some convoluted sentences, inject with Speed, and throw in a Woody-Allen-esque professor for humor and good measure, and that's my line of research. While I love it--and I still do to this day--I struggle with research, finding elements that others haven't already accomplished, and would rather just enjoy what others have already found. Selfish. That's how I would define myself as an academic.

In the middle of my time at IU, my father died. It threw my world off-kilter, and caused me to question almost every institution in my life. What did I really want? How could I enjoy life more? Where did I see myself in five years? What made me happy? And the answers to these questions did not and do not revolve around the left hemisphere of my brain. The right side called to me--that same side looking for me several years earlier in Poland--and this time, I listened. I found writing again.

First page of Beowulf
Photo courtesy of Wiki Commons
While it's work--hard and painful--it's also rewarding. If you're here, you may also be a writer, so you understand what I'm saying. If not, let me tell you that there's nothing more exciting to me than finding the right word, that one that changes the boring action into something that jumps off the page. Or finding the proper adjective to paint the picture for someone else, so you're both looking at the same object in your minds. It's a journey, never ending, through the dance of creation. Since I'm not a good dancer, I stumble frequently, but I never hesitate to pick myself and keep going because, sprick, I'm having a good time.

Thanks so much for visiting me here. I hope you enjoy what I have to say.
Related Posts with Thumbnails