It's a funny thing; Before embarking on my journey to becoming a famous writer before I'm dead, I read books like Ariel Gore's Atlas of the Human Heart without any real thought to the writer behind the story. But reading it with the eyes of a writer made me want to crawl into the pages and hug Gore for her honesty, high-five her for her bravery, and beg her to share a cup of coffee with me just so I could...you know...bask. She could have lied. She could have called it a novel. But she didn't. And for that, Gore kicks ass.
I want to write a story like Gore's. I might not be able to compete; I have no world-traveler at the age of 15, smuggling, squatting, wise-beyond-my-years, teen- mom-leaves-abusive- boyfriend true tales to add to my own life story. What I do have is my own story and a new appreciation for memoir writing.
I just want to be able to turn off the noise in my head and the fear I've been letting masquerade as writer's block so I can finally sit down and just write, already. Gore is my inspiration; and her Atlas is my guide.