I Am Stories

I heard a writer say that she “was born with a pen in her hand”. And I wondered, Was her mother’s midwife startled by the sight of a shrieking gunk-cladded newborn brandishing a sharp-tipped stick? I’ve avoided imagining the mental and physical state of the mother, since I’ve never been interested in that kind of bloodiness.

I was born with a mouth full of screams—no pen, no plumbing, no electricity, no marvelous public library… Nothing but wild, good looking, super intelligent (and modest) babies in the Dominican Republic.

I left college to join the Marines—told you I was a wild thing. But don’t hate on the wildness of my witchy soul, for some of the blame lies in a uniform and a story. You see, the man inside the aforementioned attire told me, “The Marine Corps will take you to exciting countries, provide you with free education, and fill your life with wonderful experiences.”

I worked as a small weapons specialist, a Marine Corps combat instructor, an assistant casualty operations officer, and as a case manager for Marines who were seriously injured during Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom.

The traveling to “exciting countries” was a bit of a stretch… But I did complete degrees in Social Psychology and Creative Writing, on the Marine Corps dime. I also got to interpret for a Texan President, had long conversations with famous people who didn’t know I had no idea who they were, and one time, while I was in uniform standing in a hospital hallway, PINK kissed me on the mouth. See? Experiences.

I fell in love with reading before I was six, but didn’t discover my fiction writing addiction until I was in my very late twenties. My love affair with words has morphed into a life of writing, reading, plotting and blogging. I love every bit of it. You can tell how much I love reading and writing by considering the amount of times I’ve used the word “love” in this paragraph *cough*. Yes, I tend to fake-cough often. We can’t all be perfect, can we? No. Well, not unless you are me, myself, I, or Seven of Nine.

Magaly

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