I saw my essay posted in CNN.com on Friday and did a double take. I’ve come a long way from journaling about my crap marriage to being a writer of personal essays that publications actually want to buy. Crazy! But maybe not. I have a story, lots of stories actually, and at 35 years old I don’t think that is abnormal. Which is why I was bothered today when a guy (a sorta date) I met for a walk through the park asked “What kind of writing do you do?”
“Memoir,” I said. “I’m shopping around my proposal right now.”
“Really? You seem too young to write a memoir.”
“What do you mean? I’m 35. I have a story. Everyone has a story…” I say this thinking its naive for someone almost ten years older than me to say that.
He has a story. We all have a story. That breastfeeding baby I saw in his mothers arms in the park has a story. Is that baby too young? Hell no. Breastfeeding looks traumatic. He’ll probably have a memoir about it in 20 years.
If you’ve lived, you have a story. Too young? There’s no such thing.