Thought Catalog

Anne Thériault

A short list of things that I love: my son, the dude I am married to, books, summer dresses, shiny hair, banjo music, ...

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You. Sometimes I wonder about you. I wonder, for instance, where you came from. I understand the dry facts, of course, the complex mechanics of ovulation and ejaculation.

Don’t listen to people who want to peddle some kind of elite ideal of what it means to write; don’t buy into the idea that you can only refer to yourself as a writer if you’ve been published in the New Yorker or you have a stack of rejection letters a foot deep or you frequently stay up all night weeping softly into a glass of scotch because you can’t arrange exactly the right words in exactly the right order to say exactly whatever it is you want to stay.

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