Last July I decided to go back to school. I’ve always wanted to get my masters and finally made the move to apply. I got accepted into the Master of Arts in Professional Writing. This wasn’t an easy choice having not been to school in too many years to count. Add into that, I became a hermit in my writing life. Now, not only did I need to face socializing, I mixed in an education. I specifically looked for classes outside my comfort zone to increase my knowledge base. Creative Non-Fiction didn’t sound too difficult for a back to college class. It did challenge me in my writing skill at first, because this class focused on memoirs, biographies, travel writing, food writing, etc.
My first thought was that I did not have anything to write about. However, in one of my other classes (an introductory to genres class), I had to write a poem. My poem was based on my birth as a twin. This got me thinking of how to incorporate my life as a twin into a writing project. So, it began. Through this class, I’ve completed many essays in my book titled A Twin Like Me. I’d like to share some of it with you and see what you think. Here is the introduction and one essay entry:
From the moment I took my first breath, I earned the designation of “twin.” This label is one I can never remove; a label I am proud to have and will have beyond my time on earth. I consider myself lucky in having a close, positive relationship with my twin. This relationship is special to me. Not every twin is happy with their label. I am and I wrote this book to celebrate being a twin like me.
Twin Enlightenment – Age 15
Jerrie and I exited the car dressed exactly alike from our matching shirts to matching shoes.
Our excitement barely contained between us and marked only by small gasps.
Today, the Twin Cities Twin Club gathered at the convention center.
Invitation to twins only…
Encouraged to dress alike…
Our first meeting with another set of twins whose outfits didn’t match made us pause.
They despised being twins. Only here because their parents made them come.
Why? We’re confused.
“I want to be me, not her. Not her twin. Just me,” one says.
“Yeah,” the other agrees.
“But…but you can’t,” I sputter.
“We can and will,” they say in unison.
We walk away and I lean slightly to the side and bump my arm against Jerrie’s arm.
Comforting in the contact.
“How sad,” I whisper.
“I don’t understand,” Jerrie whispers.
“I don’t think we ever will.”