Are these your words

​IYKYK right? Actually, not so much. I heard it again recently. "Are these your words?" As if there is a soul left in the universe who knows me yet is unaware that this middle aged, fluffy gramma with the soul sucking accountant day job is at her core a writer wannabe. Who, if afforded the luxury, would ditch the day job, don a sequin smattered tutu, dye the gray mop indigo blue and write her unicorn lovin' heart out. Yes, deep within also lurks a formidable coyote minded banshee bent on angst and monetization - but for the most part Tam loves words and wants to be with them 24/7.
2022 and to a lesser degree the 2 years preceding forced me to focus on myself, on mortality, on the chaos that ensues when goals and dreams and identities are contingent on the capricious desires of others. I wanted to matter. I wanted to be enough. I wanted to be 150lbs again. And because these wants became all consuming - my life is a hot mess. And so be it because I am above all a writer and I have stories to tell.
I'm not ditching the day job. Clean eating requires an unholy outlay of cash and no matter how resistant the flesh is - the spirit is much more stubborn. For the moment I remain grizzled and tutuless...
But there are three featherless squawking babies in my writer nest. 3 novels. We'll see what fledges ... what succumbs to predation... and as we progress I'm going to dust off Ephesus and seek publication. Its been inert for two years. Kinda like me.