Let me tell you a story, a story about a girl just trying to survive. It is hard to pursue art when you can barely keep food in your children’s mouths. Artists don’t get paid enough for their work. I may be thirty years old, but I was raised poor white trash, an enlisted man’s daughter who’s middle class life went down the drain after he retired. I always had a gift and everyone was counting on it to pull the family out of poverty, but it wasn’t going to work. They pinned their hopes on me, even though I was just a child. They pinned their hopes on me, but didn’t give me the tools to live out my passion.
In between working dead end jobs to feed my children and going to college, I have studied writing. It has been a constant dream of mine, but I knew that I needed the tools. Finally at thirty years old, I am tired of waiting until I am financially stable. I will write in my spare time, and try my best to keep up with my college education and my work.