MY STORY

My name is Lindsay Rae. Currently, I am standing over a garbage can in my unicorn onesie, eating a chicken leg and typing on my laptop with fingers that are so greasy they are leaving fat blemishes all over my already disgusting keyboard. There is a sharp shooting pain under my left ribcage. This could be from the chicken or perhaps an ulcer that has gone undetected because of my acute anxiety caused by doctor’s office waiting rooms. 

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The truth is, no amount of ulcers could keep me from slinging stories. Writing is a journey that has saved my life on many different occasions. From melancholy yarns of teenage angst to thought pieces about losing a small business — writing has always been a security blanket that has kept me warm during the darkest nights.

I’ve written pieces for literary magazines such as Defenestration, Cagibi literary magazine, and The Maine Review. It took many years of trial and error to understand how to get my work into these types of publications, and sometimes, I still wonder if my pieces were good enough to be accepted. Perhaps it was an administrative mistake. Maybe a slip of the mouse to give a checkmark rather than an X.

As a creative, it’s my toxic trait to constantly question my ability as a writer while willfully ignoring the fact that the only way to get better is to stop worrying and start writing.

As humans, we need our creative outlets. It is deeply ingrained into our lives, and just as we sew up the frayed ends of our favourite throw blanket, it is our stories that hold us together in times of good and bad.