Plotter Vs. Pantser

February 8, 2017February 7, 2017 ~ shawnaborman ~ 1 Comment

Hello, hello! It’s been awhile since I’ve really written something writing related, so I thought I should probably get back to that. After a long day of errands and asking people what I should blog about, a friend brought up the question of whether I’m a plotter or a pantser. Basically, do I outline my stories or do I let them grow organically. I’m sure I’ve at least glanced over this at some point in the past two years (I’ve kept a blog going for two years??? Who’d’ve thunk it?), but I decided to take a minute to dig deeper into this seeming dichotomy.

issue7 — From So You Write. I still don’t know all the abbreviations, so don’t feel bad.

First, let’s take a look at plotters. These are the people who get a story idea, then spend hours or days or weeks or longer plotting out all of the details and creating outlines and character bios and the like (and even charts or graphs for the hardcore plotters). Some of them plan every little thing ahead of time. Others write out the broad strokes (major plot points and characters and all of that) but leave connecting the dots until the actual writing process. This works really well for some people, but it’s not the only way to write.

leqoiq575v_1437536694125 — Just one example of plotting, courtesy of J.K. Rowling.

On the other hand, you have pantsers. These are the people who get a story idea and just go with it. Characters and adventures come and go organically as the story unfolds on the page. Many of them have no notes beyond the story itself. Some take notes as they go, so they don’t have to keep scrolling through their story to remember what someone was wearing or whatever. Others plot things out in their head as they go, but allow the story to ultimately dictate what happens. They aren’t afraid of getting sidetracked by a character who refuses to do what was planned. In other words, they fly by the seat of their pants.

As different as these two things are, I think they’re more two ends of a spectrum than separate identities. I certainly know people who are strict plotters and others who refuse to even attempt the restrictions of planning things out, but I prefer taking the middle ground. I fully admit that I have more pantser tendencies than not. I’ve always had trouble creating (and adhering to) outlines. All of my stories start organically and I prefer to let them unfold on their own, but I do get stuck sometimes when I do it that way. That’s when I switch to plotter mode. I write a rant (I literally whine and complain and generally grump during this whole process) to myself figuring out where I want the story to go, then once I get back on track, I switch back to pantser mode. There’s no shame in swinging both ways.

spockkirk_ed6bcd_4777877 — How most pantsers feel when dealing with unruly characters.

There’s no one right way to be a writer. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a Liar McLiarson, so don’t listen to them. Don’t be afraid to try plotting if you’re a pantser. It can really help things flow better when you’re stuck. Also, try flying by the seat of your pants occasionally if you’re a plotter. It can be freeing and new, exciting things could happen.

What are your thoughts on plotters vs. pantsers? Which one are you? Or do you dabble in both? As always, leave a comment here or on my social media pages!

Until next week!

Words For A Young Me

February 1, 2017January 31, 2017 ~ shawnaborman ~ 2 Comments

Hello, hello! I didn’t really know what to write for today, so I asked around, and a friend suggested that I share some advice that I would give to a younger version of myself. I think she meant like one of those open letter posts. This isn’t really going to be that. I don’t even know if this is technically advice, but I thought I would share some words. I can guarantee that young me wouldn’t have listened to any of it, though.

Young Me (Color Correction) — Okay, super young me might’ve listened, but not teen me.

I suppose the first thing I would say is that you’ll be okay. Life is fluid. It’s always changing and it will shape you, eroding certain things away while building up others. You will grow to be cynical and dark and quiet before you figure out that the world is generally good. You will learn early on that life isn’t fair. People will tell you that you can do anything. A staircase to a second floor with no elevator will prove them wrong. Most of the time, you’ll find a way around the obstacles presented to you or you’ll move on to something else. You’ll take these experiences and find your reality within them. You’ll find yourself.

A lot of the time, you won’t like who or what you are. You won’t be able to change the things you want to, so you’ll accept them. A morbid sense of humor will help with that. At some point, you’ll even realize that a lot of the things you don’t like about yourself aren’t as bad as certain people make them out to be. You do have feelings. Your capacity for love and caring is greater than most people will ever know. They will tell you differently. You’ll even believe their words for a while. But that will pass. You’ll never be the kind of affectionate and sentimental person they wanted you to be, but that’s okay. That’s not you.

me-and-ju1 — Most of my high school years were spent looking like a boy.

People will come and go as well. The toxic people who drag you into the darkness won’t always be there. Sometimes life will take them away and sometimes you’ll decide you’ve had enough. Yes, you’ll be strong enough to tell people to go. Even people you love will leave. It’ll hurt, but you’ll be okay.

You will eventually surround yourself with people who have wildly different world views than you do. You will care about them even when you disagree with them. And most of the time, you’ll keep your opinions and beliefs to yourself so you can keep the calm. Occasionally, you’ll pose a question to stir up debates among your friends when you’re bored. Then, you’ll sit back and watch the chaos until you get bored again. Mostly, though, you’ll try to keep things peaceful.

shawna50 — Twenty-one was a lot longer ago than I realized.

Like I said, you’ll be okay. You’ll be dark and cynical and quiet and loving and sarcastic and weird and so much more. But most of all, you’ll like who you are. You’ll still struggle with what you are on occasion, but everyone does. You’re not alone. Life, like the world, is generally pretty good. So, even when it seems like you’ll never be happy again, remember that the good will always come back around eventually.

All Dogs Go To Heaven

January 25, 2017January 24, 2017 ~ shawnaborman ~ Leave a comment

Hey, all! I don’t feel much like writing a big post right now. We had to put our last puppers down yesterday (or today as I’m writing this). He was pretty old for a chihuahua (15 or 16), and he was really sick, so we had to make the choice. Instead of the usual post, I think I’ll just spam you with pictures of some of our old puppers.

That’s Chewy. He’s the one we just put down. Mom rescued him back in 2002 or so and he was with us ever since. He liked to pee on people and cuddle and would run around bumping into things because he was blind. He was the baby of the family.

This was Dame Julia of Mesquite. She was my Jujubee. We had to put her down back in 2014 and she was around 13 or 14 and she was really sick. She was my protector. Whenever she was in lap, you couldn’t come near me without getting nipped at. I fully admit she was rotten and spoiled.

Toto! She was my sister’s dog that she got from one of Dad’s jobs. She was put down in 2011, but I’m not sure how old she was (at least 13 or so). Her snaggle-teeth weren’t helped by the fact that she liked to attack socks and wouldn’t let go even after you lifted her off the ground. She was the sweetheart.

This was Speedy. He was the first dog that was supposed to be mine, but he got too big to sit in my lap. We got him in 1993 from one of Dad’s jobs and he stayed with us until 2010 when he had to be put down. He was Dad’s pup once he crawled up behind Dad’s neck and watched TV with him. He would sing and bounce around and was generally the sweet, loving old man.

We had plenty of other dogs before these four, including Schnapps and Michelob. I don’t remember a time in my life when there wasn’t at least one dog around. It’s a weird feeling. That’s all I really feel like saying this week. I’ll be in better spirits next week. See you then!

A Look Inside Texas de Brazil

January 18, 2017January 17, 2017 ~ shawnaborman ~ 2 Comments

Howdy, howdy! How was everyone’s week? As promised, I’m posting a review of my birthday experience at Texas de Brazil. We went to the one out in Addison this time, instead of the one in Dallas. Check out their website (linked above) for locations near you! It’s a Brazilian steakhouse and churrascaria, so there’s a big focus on meat. As carnivores, Dad and I appreciate that, as did Ed Baker who went with us and is a family friend from back when I was active with MDA. I will say that this wasn’t my first time there, so this post will probably draw on my other experiences as well.

First, a reminder of my rating system:

MMMMM = Everything is magnificent!
MMMM = Great, but something is off.
MMM = Pretty good, but a couple of things could be better.
MM = The bad’s starting to outweigh the good.
M = Definitely more cons than pros.
… = I couldn’t find anything nice to say.

16112619_10155771823218345_6022925725518282883_o — A selection of their meats borrowed from their Facebook page.

First up is accessibility. They don’t have many handicap parking spaces at either of the locations I’ve been to, but they do have valet parking to make life easier if the spaces are taken. I admit that I like the Addison location a little better than the Dallas one because I can get in through the front door. The only ramp on the Dallas location is in through the kitchen, which is cool (I mean, at least they made it accessible in the ways they could). The Texas de Brazil in Addison did a nice job to accommodate wheelchairs. It can be a tight squeeze around the salad bar, especially at the corners (we had to ask a nice man to move because I couldn’t make one of the turns), but otherwise it was fairly easy to manuever around. The tables are a nice height, but they do have a small piece underneath that I would’ve banged my knees on if I hadn’t looked first. It’s easily avoidable, though. So, it’s accessibility is up to the usual standards around here.

Next is service. The hostess and waitress were wonderful. They both talked to me like a regular human being. The people who carry the meat around and serve it focused mostly on Dad and Ed. Only one or two of them looked directly to me when asking who wanted what, but since Dad grabbed a piece for me off of everything, it didn’t really bug me. In other words, the service was great where it mattered.

15976936_10154214450086716_7429328067176346764_n — Dad, Ed, and I post-meat, but pre-dessert.

Now, the best part: food! Once you’re seated, there’s a huge salad area you can hit up as often as you want. There’re vegetables and cheese and fruits and fish and soup. It’s delicious all on its own. They do have vegetarian-friendly options in case you know some herbivores, but I’m not sure about vegan options. My personal favorites were the cheeses and some kind of pineapple dish that was super thinly sliced and sweet. It’s definitely got enough to fill you up even if you don’t want to eat the meat floating around the room.

As for the meat, I can honestly say it’s like a little slice of heaven. Waiters carry skewers of everything from beef to chicken to pork to lamb. There’s literally something for everyone. Dad loves lamb, I loved the parmesan crusted chicken and pork, Ed kept going back to the sausages. You can gorge on whatever you want or have a little bit of everything like we did. They even have a couple of sides (garlic mashed potatoes and fried bananas) they bring to the table despite the huge salad area. They also have bread. Be prepared to stuff yourself silly.

16174915_10154214450511716_4508245192303334487_n — My birthday creme brulee!

Texas de Brazil also has a fairly wide variety of desserts. I had the creme brulee, of course. Dad had flan, and Ed had the key lime pie. Everything we’ve had here has been yummy. They don’t have specialty coffee cocktails, but the bartender will whip something up if you ask, which is how I like to end such a wonderful meal.

Now, onto the thing no one likes to talk about: the price. At nearly $50 a person (not including drinks and desserts), it’s not cheap. But for everything you get, it’s totally worth the splurge once a year or so. Get dressed up and make a night of it with someone special.

So, here’s my rating:
MMMM

15 Things About Me That You Never Wanted To Know

January 11, 2017January 10, 2017 ~ shawnaborman ~ Leave a comment

Howdy, howdy! As some of you might know, tomorrow (January 12th) is my birthday. I’ll be 31, or for those of you who have gerascophobia (the fear of aging), it’ll be my third 29th. Birthdays around here are quiet events that usually consist of a nice dinner with friends. This year, the destination is Texas de Brazil! Yummy! I’ll make sure to do a full report on that next week. This week, I thought I would share a list of 15 things about myself that you may or may not already know. I was going to do 31 and make it a whole nod to my age thing, but no one’s that interested in me.

1. My current diagnosis is Ulrich Congenital Muscular Dystrophy (UCMD), but it’s not my first. There was Floppy Baby Syndrome, which I was supposed to grow out of. When that didn’t happen, it was Congenital Myopathy. I didn’t grow out of that either, so I was diagnosed with Spinal Muscular Atrophy type 2 (SMA2), which came with a series of death guesstimates that never panned out. That was all by the time I was five. I was 23 or so when they decided SMA2 was definitely wrong and tested for UCMD (a relatively new disease at the time). The doctors swear UCMD is the correct one, though. We’ll see what happens.

2. I like Nickelback. Make fun of me all you want, but they aren’t a bad group. They’re not my favorite or anything, but I never really understood why they’re so hated.

3. I don’t have a favorite TV show. I have shows I love, but if you asked me to pick one I like best, I couldn’t even narrow it down.

4. I’m a firm believer that “growing up” and “acting your age” are scams developed by people who aren’t young at heart. Besides, I’ve never been this age. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be like.

5. My favorite things about the Christmas season (aside from family and joy and all of that) are eggnog and peppermint bark.

6. I’m quietly competitive. I try not to compete with people for things, but when it happens, I will silently plot your overthrow.

7. One of my favorite memories from my time at SMU was when my physics teacher decided to make class grades “public.” There was a spreadsheet on the class website with our grades listed under nicknames. I swapped back and forth with a guy (I overheard the guy tell a classmate his nickname, so I know it wasn’t the other female in class) for top marks as the semester went on, ultimately earning the highest grade. That was the best motivation ever.

8. I started listening to James Blunt and Lifehouse and sappy music in general for a male. I keep listening to it because I’m apparently a big old softy who enjoys that kind of stuff.

2572cb80efb8ba52518cbe588d2c0cf4 — Maybe.

9. I can go weeks or more without talking to people. It doesn’t mean that I don’t like you. And I don’t avoid people very often unless I’ve had too much social interaction (a rare occurrence). I’ll answer you if you message me. I’m just really bad at keeping in touch.

10. My favorite colors are purple and green. My favorite color combination is purple with black and silver. Most people don’t seem to know about the green part. It’s weird.

11. I have to drink booze through a straw. I don’t really understand why this amazes people, but it does.

12. I want to go to Japan some day. There are other places I would like to visit, but Japan will always be at the top of my list.

13. A friend once told me that she loved me because I would tell her the blunt truth and she’d still walk away feeling special, even if I was telling her she was doing something idiotic. She’s not the only one who has said something similar. I guess it’s a weird talent I have.

untitled — Seriously. Don’t do the thing.

14. I don’t read nearly as much as I should. I know writers are expected to read a lot, but I don’t. It’s just not that high on my list of priorities, so I tend to keep putting it off.

15. I’d love to move to the northeast. Somewhere on the water. Closer to my Stonecoast people. I really miss Maine, especially while residency is going on, like right now.

I’ll stop boring you! Feel free to share some facts about yourself in the comments or on my social media pages. See you next week!

Mindless Games and Why I Play Them

January 4, 2017January 3, 2017 ~ shawnaborman ~ Leave a comment

Happy new year, everyone! I hope the year has started off pleasantly for you. I’ve just been working on revisions to G&G and relaxing. I have a tendency to play mindless games when I relax. You know the ones. Candy Crush, Diner Dash, Papa’s Pizzeria. Pretty much anything with an alliterative name is bound to be mindless. Match three games or hidden objects games or time management games. The types of games that give you something to do with your hands and pretty images to stare at, but require little to no deep thinking. However, some people don’t really understand why I play them and even pick on me for it (in a funny haha way, not a mean one), so I thought I would explain a little bit.

495-01 — May your year be filled with love and light!

Mindless games are simply a way for me to shut down my brain and stop overthinking things, especially when I’m dwelling on something. They allow me to focus on something mundane and ignore the voices in my head for a while. When I’m upset at life or stuck on a story or whatever, the games help to clear my thoughts. It’s kind of like when you get sucked into a TV show or a movie or a book and everything else fades away for that hour or however long. It’s a way to bring peace into my head, like my own little meditation. When your brain is constantly on high speed over the stupidest things, it’s a really nice feeling to just relax.

candy-crush-rehabilitation-center — I can stop whenever I want. I just don’t want to.

There’s also this weird side effect of mindless games that I don’t get from TV or books: I find solutions to plot problems when I play. With TV and books, I have to focus on their plots and follow along. Mindless games don’t require that much interaction, so my subconscious is free to roam wild. In its roaming, it finds solutions to problems organically. It finds things I would never come up with even after hours or days of plotting. I know a lot of people who have these revelations in the shower, and others who keep dream journals for this type of stuff, but not me. Mindless games are where it’s at for me.

So, laugh at my stupid games all you want, but there’s a method to my madness. Plus, and this is important, I enjoy the games. I like matching games. I like the games that simulate tasks like waiting tables and cooking and all the other stuff I can’t do. It’s fun and stupid and makes me a huge nerd. I fully accept that.

7f861527f5e1ac43c865dc2c4043fe7e — I’m right here!

Do you play any mindless games? How do you go about clearing your mind? Do you find your aha moments in the shower or driving down the road or in your dreams? Thoughts, comments, questions, and everything in between are welcome in the comment section here or on my social media pages.

The New Year Is Coming

December 28, 2016December 27, 2016 ~ shawnaborman ~ 5 Comments

Hello, hello! The new year is almost upon us. Unlike a lot of people I know, I have to say that 2016 wasn’t a bad year for me. Personally, it was a quiet and uneventful year. Yeah, bad and scary things happened in the world, but good things also happened. For example, Spinraza was approved by the FDA as the first therapy for Spinal Muscular Atrophy (which was one of my diagnoses over the years, but I was assured 7 or 8 years ago that I actually have Ullrich Congenital Muscular Dystrophy). Also, a lot of people were lost this year, including icons like Alan Rickman, Gene Wilder, and Carrie Fisher. But we’ve survived. We’re still here to make 2017 a better year. To make ourselves better people.

15726690_10154915430007848_1371003916072326513_n — R.I.P. General Organa

If we want the new year to be better, we have to start with ourselves. Many people make New Year’s Resolutions, which are great if you stick with them, but most of us don’t. A week into January and that resolution to exercise more flies out the window with that first pulled muscle. That resolution to be more positive disappears with the jerk who dents your car in the grocery store parking lot and doesn’t bother leaving a note. It’s hard to change our habits. And that’s okay. But if you really want the year to be better, you’re going to have to make an effort. That’s why I’m making a goal for myself for 2017.

For 2017, instead of trying to change my habits (which is what resolutions usually entail), I’ve decided to pick one area of my life that I want to advance in and create a high (but reachable) goal for myself. Right now, I’m mostly concerned about my career, so my goal is to find an agent by the end of 2017. Hopefully, it won’t take an entire year, but it’s a goal I’m comfortable with. If I were feeling courageous, I might go so far as to make my goal having my first novel published, but that takes time and requires an agent first (okay, so I don’t technically have to have an agent and I could go the whole self-publishing route for those who want to argue those points, but I don’t feel comfortable with those options for myself, so an agent I shall search for).

So, that’s my one big goal for 2017: find an agent.

I simply feel that if we aim to improve one part of our lives at a time (whether it’s our career, personal relationships, health, or whatever) with a concrete and reachable goal, we’ll have a better chance of achieving it and thus improving our year. By all means, make some resolutions or extravagant goals. Aim to change the world if that’s what you’re into, but remember that change starts at home. By improving yourself, you’re improving the world. Don’t let anyone tell you different.

quote-if-you-want-to-change-the-world-first-try-to-improve-and-bring-about-change-within-yourself-dalai-lama-106-25-22 — Exactly.

Do you have any resolutions or goals for the coming year? What area of your life would you most like to advance in during 2017? Leave a comment here or on my social media pages to share your plans for the year.

See you next year!

The One Who Got Away: A Christmas Flash Fiction

December 21, 2016December 20, 2016 ~ shawnaborman ~ Leave a comment

Hello, hello! It’s almost Christmas, so I thought I would give you a little flash fiction that I’ve been noodling around with. Feedback is always welcome. This is just something I threw together real quick, so don’t expect perfection. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!

2e42606ee90fb9aabd579a6ef8b1de49

The One Who Got Away

By: Shawna Borman

Her voice had the sweet ring of silver bells and wrapped itself around the mind like garland around the tree. It drew people to her. Hanging thick in the chilled December air, her presence lingered long after she disappeared into the night with her prize. It kept the others warm and coming back for another chance. They never noticed that the ones who went with her never came back. At least, that was how the rumors went.

On Christmas Eve, I made the mistake of cutting through the park on my way home from my parents’ party. It was late and I was drunk. Alcohol was the only way I could stand the façade my parents required. I wasn’t who they wanted me to be, so I hid behind suits and ties when I was with them.

According to the legend, she should’ve been gone hours earlier. But there she was, singing to the crowd of men stupid enough to wander into her path. Singing to me. My eggnog-soaked brain vaguely registered the song, I’ll be Home for Christmas. It was a lie. The man she chose wouldn’t go home ever again. My steps faltered, steering me away from my path and right to the front of the group.

Men fell to their knees at her feet, tears streaming down their cheeks as they pled for her to choose them. Her pull was strong. I felt it somewhere deep in my soul, like a star being dragged into orbit. It was something I had never felt for a woman. Disconcerted, I took a step back. The star dimmed and her voice gained a jagged edge, like a broken ornament. I wanted to run, to break away from the group, but my feet remained frozen in place.

She turned her attention to me, causing the star to flare bright once more. I swayed, refusing the urge to sink down in front of her. Her fingers, icy cold, brushed my cheek and trailed down my arm into my palm. Green eyes, like holly, stared up at me. A mischievous smile crossed her poinsettia red lips.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered.

I followed her deeper into the park, down paths I never knew existed, until we came to a house made of snow. A door of bleached white bones stood ajar, exposing the inky blackness inside.

“You must come in and warm me up.” Her skin glittered blue in the silver moonlight. “We can be together forever. What more could a man ask for?”

The word hit me like a thousand reindeer. I was a man to her, to everyone. The suit suddenly felt like wrapping paper, hiding the gift inside me. It was a gift I believed no one would actually want. The tie tightened around my throat, choking me. I tore my hand out of her grasp and clawed the tie away from my neck.

“What’s wrong, my love?” she asked, her voice nothing but shards of broken glass. “Let’s go inside and talk about it.”

Her beauty melted away like snow revealing a muddied mess underneath. The vibrant hue of her eyes drained until all that was left was the same creamy shade of that evening’s nog. I wanted to scream, but only a whimper escaped.

“Get in the house, before you ruin everything, you bastard.”

She grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward the open door. Part of me wanted to let her take me, to let her extinguish the life of the man I was supposed to be. That was when I understood what needed to be done, what I needed to do in order to be happy.

I yanked away once more, shoving her across the threshold. She teetered, as if on the edge of a precipice.

“I’m a woman,” I said out loud for the first time in my life.

With that, she fell and the house collapsed into a pile of snow and human bones.

I left my small town that summer to transition fully into my new life as a woman, but I never heard rumors of the singing woman again.

Accountability: Like Due Dates But Different

December 14, 2016December 13, 2016 ~ shawnaborman ~ Leave a comment

Howdy, howdy! I was really having a hard time deciding what to write about when a friend sent me a text thanking me for being the voice in her head asking if she was at least thinking about writing. It gave her the nudge she needed to stop at a place after work and take a little while to have a cup of tea and write some words. She hadn’t written in a while, but she wanted to, so I told her I’d pester her every day or so until she started writing. The second day of pestering and she’s already making time for it. That’s what happens when you’re held accountable for things like this, you make time for them.

castiel — I know, Cas. I know. I’ll go do that.

I don’t know about you, but I always work better with deadlines in place. At school, I could knock a ten page paper out in one night if I had to, as long as the research was done ahead of time. Deadlines meant grades. In the real world, missing deadlines affects the pay from the day job. In other words, deadlines carry the threat of consequences. But what’s going to happen if you don’t finish a novel? Unless you have a contract with a due date, nothing will happen. So, how do writers overcome this lack of a threat and finish things? We hold each other accountable.

In the beginning, I didn’t really understand how holding each other accountable would work. After all, if I don’t push myself to finish something, why would someone judging me for it be motivational? Turns out that guilt is a powerful tool. If I set reasonable goals with people and don’t reach them, I feel guilty. I don’t care if the end of the world pops up, if people know I planned on doing things and failed, it sucks. It also helps that I’m mildly competitive, so failure and losing are not an option. I won’t be the only one to not meet my goals.

According to people I’ve done this whole accountability thing with, it also works by legitimizing their craft, especially when they have jobs. They have trouble taking time out of their schedules to write because they feel like it shouldn’t be a priority even when they secretly (or not so secretly) want it to be. Having someone who will pester them and encourage them gives them an “excuse” to make time for writing.

calvinwriting — You can’t keep waiting when there’s no last minute.

So, even when deadlines aren’t an option, we can still motivate each other by holding each other accountable. We might not receive any real negative consequences if we don’t meet our goals, but we’ll have to live with the shame of disappointing our friends. Who has time for that?

Do you have any friends who pester you about your creative outlet? Does accountability work for you? How? If not, what do you do to stay productive and motivated? Leave a comment here or on my social media pages to share your thoughts!

Until next week!

A Writer’s Tale

December 7, 2016December 5, 2016 ~ shawnaborman ~ Leave a comment

Hello, hello! I was at a loss over what to write for today. My usual plea for topic ideas proved unfruitful this time. Then, I realized that I have never shared my journey to writerhood on here. At least I don’t think I have. Feel free to stop reading if you’ve heard this story before.

I’ve always written. Stories, poems, the occasional attempt at a comic strip (but my drawing skills failed me there). I never really wanted to be a professional, though, so I’m a little different from my friends and fellow writers who have wanted to do this forever. My crazy job goal was always a fashion designer, but when I figured out that wasn’t going to happen, I set my sights on more obtainable professions.

southern-methodist-university-beautiful-college-universities — Dallas Hall at SMU. This campus is where my plan tumbled down.

I went through most of my time at college (both community and university) waffling between psychology and English. With psychology, I could help kids like myself. After all, all the psychologists I saw walked into the room and presumed to know how I felt. It never seemed right to me. At least I would appear a little more relatable than they did to me. I also kept returning to English because it was easy and I enjoyed it. In fact, by the time I transferred to SMU (I went in as a Junior), the only degrees I had time to finish were psychology and English.

Since I had a semblance of a plan with psychology, I initially decided to go with that major. It was going well. I passed all my classes with fairly high grades (never less than a B). I really got into abnormal psychology, especially the class that focused on disorders in children. I aced my research class paper. But I still kept taking English classes as well.

2c5377c130a4205d2afe15b420112a517aafe30bee6ac6c260d13f0888601e6b — Try having the debate with yourself. I still secretly prefer APA.

Then, that fateful day came. Dad was walking me to class after a stop at the campus coffee shop and we were talking about majors and what I was planning to do, when he asked the question that shattered my little plan. “How’re you supposed to be a psychologist when you don’t like people?” He was right. I’m not a people person. I don’t like to pry. I’ll offer advice when asked, but beyond that you’re on your own. What kind of psychologist would I be? I could go into research, but I don’t even like that. Thus, I became an English major.

What was I supposed to do with an English major? I had zero desire to teach. So, I took some creative writing courses, found out that I still enjoyed writing, and dipped my toe into the big bad world of writerhood. And that’s how I found myself on a path that would take me to Stonecoast and onto a place where I could live with the voices inside my head without having to worry about people.

How did you decide to pursue the path you’re on? Did you always know you wanted to do it or did it spring itself on you? Tell me your story in the comments or on my social media pages!

Shawna's Blog of Doom

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Author: shawnaborman