Sometimes in life you come to the conclusion that at one point or another, you’ve become totally and utterly predictable.
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a novelist. But like all little girls, I became a bigger girl and all big girls grow out of their childhood dreams. Why would I want to be a writer? My mom and dad– a librarian and a teacher respectively, always told me that I could be anything I wanted as long as I could support them when they were old and stale. A joke, sure, but it stuck in my mind like a piece of gum on the underside of a chair.
Time went on. I read, widely and deeply, and every English teacher tell me and my parents I was a gifted writer. It’s not like these things are unique– there are plenty of kids with my same interests and talents (which, by the way, I think is totally rad). I had people telling me literature was in my very bones, but I ignored them. There’s no money in English, I thought. I want financial stability, not the anxiety about money I had growing up. I did love it though– still do– I just wanted better for myself than I though an English degree could give me.
So I decided to go into advertising. And five minutes into my Advertising 101 class, I thought oh shit, I want to be a writer.
Sorry mom, but I guess I became exactly what I said I wasn’t. Full circle from being a little kid with a dream to a college student taking actual copywriting classes and starting an actual blog. I never really changed a bit.
Ok, there’s no need to be so melodramatic.
Any Scrubs fans? No? Ok nevermind then.
The basic point of this is some boring introduction on me (the writer of this blog) and some basic facts about me. Not that interesting, right? But unfortunately necessary. So what’s up?
My name is Abigail, an undergraduate Advertising student with a double minor in English and Art History. I live in Philadelphia, but I’m a transplant from wonderful, cold, and cranky New England, a place that I miss terribly every day and cannot wait to get back to. College students aren’t supposed to say that, though, right? We’re all supposed love being away from home and not miss it one bit. In my experience, that’s mostly crap. But I’m trying to be brave, so here I am almost 400 miles from where I was born and raised in small-town Maine. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, I guess.
I have one mom and one dad, both of whom raised me to be aggressively independent and an avid reader. I also have one older sister, a girl I love more than anyone else on this earth, but who– annoyingly– lives nine hours away. My cat is named Ziggy, who I raised from an itty-bitty kitten but he had to stay in Maine to kill rodents. Typical– everyone you love always leaves you to hunt rats underneath your house.
The point of this blog is that I want to be a writer, and in order to be good, you need to write. A lot. Even better if you have your own blog. Even better if you’re published (I’m working on that bit still). I write about things that interest me. Mostly, that means literature, but it will also include papers I’ve written for this or that and adapted, or opinion pieces. Who knows– sky’s the limit. Clearly. I’m not an astronaut/billionaire/both. My goal is to make entries between 300-500 words and post MWF, though considering my lack of experience in blog writing I have no clue whether or not that will work. I guess we’ll find out!
Well then– welcome to this strange and wonderful thing we call blogging.