I wrote a book. I wrote it a long time ago. And it wasn't very good. But then I started getting my master's degree in writing in order to learn how to edit a book. And I learned how to edit a book. Check.
So then I went back to my book. And that's how I knew the first draft wasn't very good. It wasn't terrible either. You'd read it through to the end likely. But it needed direction and to be more fluid. Plus, I'm a better writer now than I was when I wrote the first draft. So I tackled a lot of the focusing and rewriting this fall.
The book's about a girl who is removed from her home and lives in residential treatment. I wanted a story like this to exist. I felt like people needed it to exist. So I wrote it.
But I've felt weird about writing my book. I feel like someone might slap me across the face and yell "IMPOSTER"
But the thing is, I believe in the story. And I wrote a good book. Those are important. And while I don't know that I accomplished the huge goals I had of making a story for people who've been through it, and also of making a story that will bring some awareness to these stories to the public, I did my damnest.
So who the hell am I to write a story like this or to ask people to donate money to make it great? It turns out, I'm the one who wrote it down. I'm the one who tried. And even if I didn't meet these goals, maybe it will spur someone else on to doing it better. There's far more than one story of kids in residential treatment but if this is the one you read, I wrote a good book at least.
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It’s casual Friday.
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