Aka I’m answering the question of “why the fuck would you listen to me (some random chick on the internet).”
I have been writing since I could string words together into coherent sentences. I remember stapling notebook paper together and making stories about a family of horses, which I also illustrated.
In elementary school, I participated in UIL competitions (school-based contests in Texas). I won ribbons for my writing. Out of hundreds of students.
In the sixth grade, I went home one night from school and wrote my first poem (with zero training besides public elementary school). I showed it to my English teacher and she decided I was brilliant. She took me to meet the instructor of the Creative Writing class that was only offered to eighth graders. They were waiting for me when I got there. I won state-wide writing contests for poetry and short stories.
I have storage bins full of the notebooks and journals I filled with my fiction.
When it was time to go to college, I fought my parents for what they thought was a fairly useless major. I went to the University of Arkansas which has one of the best programs for creative writing. I earned my BA.
I went on to earn my MA in the same subject: English with a Creative Writing emphasis. While in graduate school, I taught Comp I and Creative Writing I with the guidance of seasoned professors.
I have self publishing experience (with Lulu and Createspace). Editor experience. And I hope to one day have more traditional publishing experience.
I guess you could say, this is my resume. These are my bragging rights. This is me declaring that I know what the fuck I am doing even when I don’t know what the fuck I am doing.