Birth of a Writer
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 . . . .”
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About Len
Born in a hospital that has since been torn down, grew up on a street that has since changed its name, in a house that has since changed its number. Everywhere around me my life seems to be erasing itself. Before the eraser finishes its work, however, I spend...
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...
A little of both, I guess.
Thanks, Katherine!