I want to be.  I have been told over the years that I should have been.  I have always dreamt of writing pieces published in a magazine.

But I have had paralyzing fear and anxiety since I flunked freshman English in Daisy Eggers’s class.  It was called Composition and Rhetoric.  Daisy set a cinder block in front of me and told me to write.  I didn’t know what she meant.  I sat there for almost 30 minutes just staring at the concrete.  I remember writing lines about how it looked like cottage cheese.  That was the day she told me to get the gum out of my mouth.  I got a D on that paper.

I could see then I was doomed, and it spooked me.   I tried my best to get on the good side of Professor Eggers to no avail.   I got an F in the class.  This was long before parents got involved in college academics.  My parents dropped me off and never returned to campus.

That summer I retook freshman English from another professor and made an A.  I’ve always thought since then that writing must be very subjective.

Then I went to law school because I always wanted to be a lawyer.  If I’m honest I have always wanted to be a photographer, a gardener, and a gourmet chef.

My first legal writing course sobered me up when the professor marked through my whole paper in more red ink than one pen can contain.  She told me to get rid of all the superfluous language and stick to the facts or I wasn’t going to make it through law school.  I was devastated.

One of the reasons I went to law school was I had been so successful in writing letters after being nominated as the family secretary in charge of all correspondence.

I wrote the U.S. Coast Guard and got my father and brother out of a plethora of boating charges that racked up a big fine for not having enough life preservers and my brother’s obnoxious remarks about how the officer couldn’t get a real job with the FBI.  I apologized and groveled and it worked.  They dismissed all charges.

Next, I was tasked with writing thank you notes for all gifts and presents that came into our home.   There were six of us.  I just remembered all the holiday cards.

My ghostwriting included my dear mother may she rest in peace. I drafted her book reports for her book club each year until I refused while taking the bar exam.  I was 33 years old.  That’s a lot of book reports.  Yes, my southern mother, who was smart and insecure had me read her books and author a book report which she then promptly read to her book club.  She would come home raving about how wonderful her report was received.

I’ve been successful writing letters as a lawyer, but I think much of that has to do with the stationary and the fact that people are afraid of mail from a lawyer.  Bill collectors and the IRS may be feared more.

In my work, I’ve written motions and appellate briefs in our federal courts.  So, I’m guessing I am persuasive and hopefully can stick to the facts.   But I am a  criminal defense lawyer who uses my verbal skills and negotiation skills more than writing.

So, here I am all these years later hoping to be a writer.  Wanting to be a writer.  I have so many things to say and hope I will find the right audience who will laugh and relate to my life journey and foibles.  The foibles are endless.