Confessions of a Literary Prostitute

writing prostitution

With dry humor, Moliere pretty much summed up the path a lot of professional writers take in their journey to the much sought after destination of publication. This comparison of writing to prostitution not only made me chuckle, it caused me to examine my own detour laden excursion to declaring myself a writer.


As you might expect, I’ve loved reading and writing from the first moment I held a book and pencil. Words are living entities to me. As I child, I used to envision words floating around the room whenever someone spoke. Sometimes they appeared in soft flowing script. Other times, they popped out in bold block print. But always, words evoked and expressed emotion. I learned early on that words can bruise, but they can also be a healing balm.

If I had to pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with words I’d say it was the first time I heard Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’s I Have a Dream speech. I was 6 years old, and there was this man with a booming voice, full of timber and conviction speaking to thousands of people. And they were all listening with as much rapt attention as I did, while standing in front of the television, over twenty-five years later. I fell instantly in love with the far-reaching power of words.


The first time I wrote anything with the intention of sharing it with others I was in middle school. I penned a play for the Young Black Scholars program, thanks to some encouragement from a great teacher. Shout out to Mr. Drew, lol! To my surprise, the entire school came to see the play. That experience helped me understand that writing about the African-American experience (from my perspective at least) can be understood and embraced by all cultures. It also boosted my confidence in my writing ability.


As of now, I’m still writing simply because when I’m not writing, I’m absolutely miserable. Without the creative outlet of writing, I feel off-balance and less than my best self. That’s not to say that the goal is not to eventually make money. Trust me, that is definitely on the list printed in bold red ink and underlined twice. It’s simply not the only goal. My ultimate plan is to somehow manage to keep my love for writing, while also maximizing my money-making potential.

So I guess what all this means, is that I’m a “prostitute” who wants to feel that every “John” is special….Ha! That’s something I never thought I’d say.




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