The narrative line

I think last weekend's literary festival also has prompted much of the musing I've been doing yesterday and today.

As someone who did not write for years and years, who thought of herself as a vendor manager or an admin assistant who wrote on the side, or who rather had that narrative line running through her head but never wrote it down, it's rather a shock to my system to have a group of people who consider me to be a writer first and foremost.

I have always struggled with my identity. Unfortunately, I missed The Latino Boom program at this weekend's festival (so much going on at the same time) where I understand they discussed this very topic. At the post-festival party I did have the opportunity to speak with one of the participants, Sergio Troncoso.

He, too, had that struggle until he decided to give everything else up and devote himself to being a writer. Author Frank Schaeffer said much the same during the festival.

"I found what I should have been doing all along at age 39," he said.

I went from being a writer to not being one then back again over a span of years that I don't regret in the least. What else would I have to write about if I had not been the person who bought stuff for Kuwaiti royalty, if I had not met so many interesting people while working for a startup Internet company or not had such horrible experiences at the two publishing companies (haven't mentioned the book publisher I worked for, except in the "About Me" section, but it's how I ended up living in Newburyport so it's significant).

Well, there is my life: born in England, grew up to age 7 on Barbados, transplanted to rural Michigan at age 7, never interacted with extended family I was connected to by blood until I was in my 20s, etc.

And then there are all those quirky and wonderful people I know here, some of whom I complain about ad nauseum to others but still value as part of my panorama, if not outright love in a pleasingly platonic way.