My mom took my sister and I to a tarot card reader when I was ten. It wasn’t for a serious glimpse into our futures – more for a distraction from a boring day of shopping. I wanted to go first, but the woman would not let me. I waited for her to read everyone else, and then she pulled out a new deck for me, unwrapping the cellophane from it as she told me to shuffle. She told me that I would grow up to one day write the truth, and I cried, because fiction was so much more fun than the truth.
Shows what I know.
I’ve recently fallen in love with memoir, and I do write the truth for a living. Not about myself, though; about companies and products. That’s where this blog comes in. It’s my chance to write the truth, for me this time.