Please help me welcome our own Priti J to the Writer's Journey Blog this week!
In a world where I could be anything - I chose to be a bank auditor. Then I started to complain about it, and even the bankers found me boring (with due respect to the colour grey) "Get a major in finance," they said. "Join the exciting world of finance, they said!" Well, I'm looking for them now and they're hiding. If you see them, call me. There'll be a reward! I've travelled a bit, looking for them, and now can curse in nine languages. Yes, I have put sailors to shame. So I quit, and right on time as my daughter chose to present herself then, and earned her moniker 'Jungle Girl.' It's been a long five years. Are bank audits exciting yet? As you know by now, I also need to be told to stop talking. Never used a word where I could use four. "Better sense prevails," they said. "But nonsense persuades," I retorted. Now I'm hiding and they're looking for me. Don't tell them - there'll be a reward. I also got a major in education while working - which thankfully nobody said I should. And did it come in handy. Tragedy struck, world came crashing down. Once, twice, thrice in a row: So, with a little daughter and a husband who was bed-ridden, I said to myself, "Now what?" The life of creature comfort I was used to was lost, and it got as grim as the reaper - the reaper was the elephant in the room.
Fortunately, I found myself in the midst of some excellent company (my husband Jay's friends initially - the writing community he was part of) who became my dear ones eventually, rallied around me, helped me up, and set me down on firm feet through every manner possible. I found more comfort in the kindness and compassion I was shown than ever. I'd always known writers to be a kind and sensitive tribe, and this reaffirmed my knowledge. I got a job as a teacher, teaching the 5th grade, and Covid struck. Well, I can be a mule, and the ghost of creativity which lurks inside began to take over my soul. It whispered "Priti, how would you like to write?" I was too weak to fight it. I wrote, I showed my work to some stellar writer friends, and was told it was good. That I should submit. I did, and publications started to accept:
Grant at ICW Magazine - my first publication, CafeLit, Writers Club, Twine & Twain, Academy of the Heart and Mind, got accepted in a to be published anthology - I've always loved poetry and humour so I began with these genres. I started to write more, and I found the sensitive variety too... speaks to me. So now I write all three. The creative ghost wasn't satisfied with the writing I fed it - it had designs upon my mind. So I designed. I was encouraged to do more, write more, design more, and put it out there, by my friend, my benefactor and mentor, the man who pulled me up as I was slipping into a dark void and has held my hand since day one, still does - who has stayed up hearing me rant, consoled and advised me, invested heavily in my needs, and to whom I owe all my success and happiness - Steve Carr. I put it out, and the community once again responded with alacrity. PritiJ Designs was added to Author PritiJ, and here we are, guest on this fabulous platform created by my dear friend Elaine, eternally and incredibly grateful to each and every member of the community who reached out with every resource possible to help me. I hope I can never write well enough to be able to thank you enough. I shall like to remain in your debt of compassion lest I forget - for I shall like to pass on the kindness to someone who needs it, to stand up for someone, like you've done for me. I warned you earlier. I need to be told to zip it. But will I listen?
Ah, that's another story...
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