Legit
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZGPH_IbAQMfAdm4Kkd0EMv1Xzkbdxa1Q8giGr2DMoX93hMrwKomQXJ9x8rMpXbk3SkXv2ienkkOKn2dF3_T_uxL-pAoX0zhJSoNoO1GoMzufQZiJrrk2JH97OpHWlGF7Ah6TUB3pRfGU/s400/WEB_2019_headshots_amy_002.jpg)
I write about healthcare but I'm not a nurse. A boxer for a year and a half, I like to borrow the sport's metaphors. I write extensively about powerlifting but can't get my bench past 135. I go on and on about abuse but haven't ever been hit. There are days when I think maybe this offends some people. As a writer, I use words to process the world first for myself, then for others. Images and paragraphs hover, swirling, until I sit to order them meaningfully. It is then that themes arise and I understand more deeply what I think and what I meant to say. In a time when sharing online through word and image is encouraged and abundantly present, there remains something special about the art form of constructing a sentence or composing a picture. The artist trains to see, to observe. Art is for all--anyone can and should paint, draw, dance and write--but skill elevates the form. I've noticed annoyance rise in me when prominent writers reverse a position/lifesty