Sometimes — like whenever I start typing — I get this feeling of dread.

I’m a not a bad writer.

I’ve got a degree in journalism (some might argue not the best way to learn to become a good writer but whatever — that’s what I did with my early twenties when I wasn’t traipsing around in acid wash jeans and a Frankie Says Relax T-shirt) and I’ve be writing things for a living for almost 20 years.

Sometimes — like whenever I start typing — I need to remind myself of this fact.

It’s strange. No one’s ever said “Christine, you’re just terrible at this writing business maybe you’d be better off in HR — you’re such a people person.” Not to me directly, anyway. Once (a long time ago but I saved the memo) I was called a rising star. I remember I wrote very complicated technical things at that job (the one where I was a baby star) and how I did that remains a complete mystery to me to this day.

I only like being a writer after I’ve written something. One of my personal joy triggers is re-reading my work and admiring a pleasing sentence or paragraph. Sometimes the whole thing delights me.

It’s only before I start that I seriously suck.

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