Happy Birthday to me and Happy Birthday to Withywindle.
I just so happened to start Withywindle on my birthday last year.
You see, I’ve always been a writer.
I wrote short stories as a kid. I didn’t want to be a princess. I didn’t want to be a ballerina, or a marine biologist or a movie star. I wanted to write and illustrate books. In kindergarten we had to draw a picture of what we wanted to be when we grew up. I drew a lady holding a book with the word “authir” next to it.
(Although, a year later, according to the first grade yearbook, I had changed my mind and wanted to become a Mary Kay.)
I was the Features Editor of my high school newspaper and the Editor-in-Chief of my college newspaper. I have a degree in writing. My first job was at a magazine. And, as you may know, I read like a fiend. The concept of Word is inescapable to me.
After I graduated from college, I followed my passion for graphic design and that is where my professional life has taken me.
A little over a year ago I ran into an old newspaper friend at the library (the social scene for logophiles).
“What are you writing these days?” he asked. Surprised at myself, I had to tell him I was writing nothing. In fact, I couldn’t remember writing anything notable in the two years since my senior thesis paper.
He shook his head. “That’s not good,” he said, “You have to keep with your writing.” I agreed.
That night I went home and started Withywindle. Something I never really intended to do, but I can’t journal consistently. I’ll journal every day for three months and then I won’t pick it up again for a year.
I published my first post on my 25th birthday. Since then I’ve been so blessed with support, encouragement and readers. If you are reading this – thank you!
Now if only it were socially acceptable for me to dress like this on my birthday….
Happy Birthday Withywindle. And Happy Birthday to me.