Skip to main content

Reality Check

When  I decided to start this blog of mine over again for the 100th time, I told myself it would simply be used as a promotional tool. Meaning, it would be a way for me to get my name out there as a writer. It was also supposed to be a way for me to find my target audience. When I restarted this blog I thought I wanted to be a fiction writer.  I have it in my head that I was going to be the next JK Rowling. However, as with many other instances in my life I was completely wrong and my mother is always going to be right.

She has been adamant throughout my life that my story is worth telling. The operative word being my. I didn't want to listen to her because I had convinced myself that I had not done anything that interesting enough in my life that people would want to read about.  Mothers always think their children are special and can accomplish anything they set their mind to. My mother is no different. My mother is my best and and she knows me better than I know myself.

Now, that I am an adult I truly understand why my story is worth telling. My story is worth telling because I am a 26-year-old, highly intelligent young woman who also has spastic cerebral palsy. That is why my mother wanted me to sell my story. She knows that it is important for people to understand things from my perspective. I will never be JK Rowling. However, I just think I am a little like the fictional character of Harry Potter. He was a boy born into a world that never quite understood him. He also had exceptional gifts that nobody ever seems to notice. It wasn't until Harry embraced every aspect of his life magical powers and all, that he actually became the person he was meant to be.

 So, because of my mommy and Harry Potter I have decided that I can't be a fiction writer, nor do I want to be. I need to write nonfiction. I need to write the story of my life because it is worth telling and the truth is often stranger than fiction.  I am going to use this blog to write about the subjects that people are often afraid to talk about. For example, love, sex, divorce, mental illness and other things of that nature. I don't have magical powers. I haven't traveled the world. But my life is worth writing about because I am a young woman who was born into a world that never quite understood her. I have exceptional  gifts and talents that often went unnoticed by everybody except my mother. Perhaps, she should have named me Harriet Patricia instead of Meghan Patricia because then I would be even more like Harry Potter

Comments

  1. Keep writing Meghan! I want to hear what you have to say!
    Uncle Eyeball




    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Celebrity Name Game

When mom met me up this morning, she was asking me which celebrity was my favorite, you know favorite female actress or male actor. It reminds me of a one, of one of those  party games that are meant to catch you offguard guard. She asked me a bunch of other questions, I answered accordingly. At the end of the game and after I was done using the toilet and eating breakfast… I wished that I would have been able to come up with better responses.  I think I said Jim Carrey and Julia Roberts. Looking back however, I would have changed my answers. Jim Carrey would have been a contender but Matthew McConaughey would have knocked him off of the top spot. As far as favorite actresses go, and still would have been Katherine Hagel, even though her career has been put on hold because of her desire to have a family. Mom then switched to questions that were of a more personal nature. That game reminding me of something I saw on one of my all-time favorite TV shows, Charmed. I think the s...

The End of The Bucket List

Noah finally reached #99 today. The reporter and photographer from the local paper had just left, when I arrived. “ The basket hit the ground safely, I see.”             “Yes,” he replied. “As you predicted, it would have been more fun with my Emilee. All the couple I went with wanted to do was swill red or white, and talk of his promotion. Emilee would have squeezed my hand lovingly and talked about the beauty of the countryside.”             “Well, Noah…They all can not be your Emilee. She was one of a kind. What’s next? I was there at the beginning when you had me write the blasted list.”             He was sitting on the edge of the bed when he looked over at me. Tears rolling down his wrinkled cheeks. “Ah, my boy, I wish I had more time on the clock, more things to tick off.     ...

Neighbor steals your Christmas tree decorations!

My name is Henry and I am the survivor of a recent kidnapping. My light moment is burned out but at least my plug is still intact. I have no idea what our next door neighbor was thinking, dragging me halfway across the yard like that. Did she honestly believe that I would be at home with a twinkle like infested Rudolf. I know that she has had her eye on me since I came to live with the Smiths about three years ago. I was rescued at about two weeks ago. Little Johnny hopped the fence unplugged me and carried me home under his arm like a football. He didn't set me up quite the way that dad would but I am sure some minor adjustments will be made soon. I'm just happy that I have a new lightbulb and I'm back to where I feel all loved and cared about once again. I know it may seem silly but plastic penguins have feelings too. I missed my family. I still don't understand what Mrs. Smith was thinking. Why didn't she have Johnny come rescue me sooner?