Snap...

Three more chapters edited, though there really wasn't much to do. I'm keeping them as is. I've also worked on The Project, editing and exploring a possible website for it.

I am a writer.

I was reminiscing with my sister, exploring my early memories for any hint of my love for writing. I remembered writing some early horse stories. Then I remembered one of my elementary school teachers writing a paragraph on the chalkboard. This was a regular exercise. We had to use the paragraph as the start to a story. I remember the teacher looking right at me, in front of the whole class, and saying, "Let's see you make an animal story out of that! I've made sure you can't." I remember thinking, "Watch me." And I did. She seemed to hate my obsession with animals, and often took opportunities to tease me, even if it meant humiliating me. I wasn't encouraged to write stories, again, until I took creative writing in high school. My teacher wanted me to pursue it, but I was told by others that I couldn't make any money at it, so I shouldn't even consider it. Maybe I can't, but that doesn't mean the stories don't deserve to be told.