The other day, I was searching for a piece of writing I’d done a while ago. This is usually an easy task, because I’m meticulous about organizing my electronic files. I utilize folders and subfolders religiously, and have each piece of writing filed not only by subject matter, but by title and draft number. So it’s usually pretty easy to find files.
But then I noticed a folder I’d created a while back called “other writing.” I honestly had no idea what I had tucked into this folder, so I clicked it open. In it, I found several projects from an undergrad public relations writing class I took about ten years ago, and a file I titled “momlit.”
Oh, yes. My attempt at a chick lit novel.
And then I remembered – grad school. Once I started grad school, I not only increased my writing workload, but I also became more critical of the writing I produced. MFA students, after all, don’t write chick lit.