On Slut-Shaming

For as long as I can remember, I have written stories. Often in my mind. Occasionally on paper. Sometimes they're good, sometimes they're crap. But they're always there- these stories that at times make it hard for me to think about the real world because my brain is so crowded.

Writing and mothering do not go hand in hand. I need to write when an idea strikes me. 9/10 times, my children need me more than my writing does. Despite this, I am occasionally able to steal a few moments and flesh out an idea- moulding and creating- until it becomes something that strikes me as readable and (if I'm lucky) likeable.

I've had a few brushes with publications. Magazines here and there have picked up a pitch and published my words. I've had two short stories published (the only two I have ever submitted for publication)- one internationally, the second on a smaller scale. I blogged for a national site for two years (was amazing!) and I've had this blog for almost 4 years. Writing is my sanity saver.

A chance twitter interaction with a fellow writer, however, had me rethinking my often stalling writing 'career'. She asked me why I didn't pitch more. Why I didn't TRY harder. Why I wasn't believing in my own worth as a writer. Why I was ok with occasional publication. She pushed me to send out queries to the 'big guys'...to just go for it.

And so I did. Sunday afternoon I snuck away from my hubby and sons and wrote for about an hour. Then I sent it to the biggest guy I could think of.

An hour and a half later I got a one line email in return: 

I can use this.

And with that, I was published in the National Post (both online and in print- page A12 if you're so inclined). And I am so, so thrilled to share my published story (click on the link) with you.  

It was a tough one to write...it was a tough story to hear. I think it is a story that needs to be told, and I am so thankful that I went balls to the wall (as my friend Sherene says) and sent it in.