where the writers are
Birth of a Writer
bibliomaniac
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Powell's Books Powell's Books

When the doctor grabbed me by the ankles, lifted me in the air, and smacked me hard on my bottom, I knew I would be a writer. After all, even though I was “a brilliant little boy,” to use my mother’s completely objective words as she lay there postpartum , the best that I could vocalize was, “Goo-goo-gah-gah,”an all-purpose phrase that served me well for many months, but did little in the way of reporting what that mean doctor had done to me.

And so I began to write.

“As soon as I saw his mask, I knew I was in trouble . . . .”

Comments
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Very witty

I like it.  Very much.  I wonder if you're using the comedy effect or if, like me, you harbour an innate distrust of the medical profession...

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A little of both, I guess.

Thanks, Katherine!