My annual family Christmas letter swelled from a single paragraph into a sixteen-page spread before I finally admitted at age thirty-seven—to myself, more than anyone else—that I wanted to be a writer, a desire that’d been brewing during a decade as a fulltime wife, mother, and dedicated church volunteer. I hadn’t always wanted to write. […]
from
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/goodletters/2018/01/marvelous-mrs-maisels-hidden-identity/
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