You have to start somewhere.

     I entertain a fantasy that someday I'll be a published writer.  When I say this out loud, my husband always responds with, "You are a published writer."  I find it adorable that he considers some articles that appeared in the "All About U" section of the of the Burlington County Times proof that I'm a real writer.  The Times asked its female readership to submit stories.  I sent a narrative, and so did most of the other women in my creative writing class.  I suspect that all writers who sent something had their work published since all the gals in my class had their chronicles printed alongside mine.  I tell my husband that none of my several submissions, which appeared in the short lived "All About U" section of the paper counted, because I didn't get paid.  So here I am, the smallest of small time writers, out of a volunteer job, because the Times eliminated the "All About U" feature.  I suppose I could start a blog.