“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ~Maya Angelou

About three years ago, I saw an ad in a Parents magazine featuring a writing school, Institute of Children's Literature.  It invited potential writers to enroll in their school (long-distance learning) and partake in a year-long course to learn how and become a published children's literature author.  Part of the enrollment involved a selection process.  This process included the submission of a sample of one's own writing.  The piece submitted had to be a recount of a memory from one's own past.  It could be happy, sad, tragic, embarrassing, or whatever.  It just had to have so many words.  So I submitted a "story."  It was of a particular embarrassing memory from my past, to say the least.  I got a response soon after I send in my submission.  They liked my story, thought my strength in writing was of potential value and offered me a spot in their school.  I was elated and scared at the same time.  Elated because after 6 years of having been graduated from college, I finally realized that maybe I didn't waste all that time in school pursuing a writing degree after all.  I did not want to be a journalist nor did I want to teach writing in school.  I just wanted to write stories.  But every time I sat down to write, I went round and round in circles, not knowing exactly how to start.  I had always thought I needed to go back to school, because I wanted more training and the ad in the Parents magazine grabbed my attention.  It not only offered the training but also guaranteed that one will be a published writer by the end of the course.  I had done nothing to pursue this dream in the 6 years I was out of school so I was excited for this chance.  But then, like most things that happen to me, I started to doubt.  Not in myself as a writer, but in the validity of the school.  They had send me all kinds of wonderful brochures with contact information to verify their credibility.  They even had a few instructors call me.  And I did some research online.  But I'm a visual and hands on person and because I couldn't see and touch the school itself or meet an instructor in person, I couldn't help thinking that it could very well be a hoax.  So far, I have not to this day found this place to be fake but I still haven't pursued it.  Still to this day, they keep pursuing me (that kind of makes me feel good about it.)  At this point in my life, I have chosen a completely different path.  I'm a graduate of nursing school.  Much of this decision has to do with the fact that I am a mother of a 5 year old child.  I still want to become a published writer someday, but such a dream is unlikely to produce any concrete results sooner rather than later as would a nursing career.  If only parenting weren't so expensive.    Last I checked, most successful writers started out living pretty poorly.  That would've been fine with me, if I were not a mother. 

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