Mika Writes

My twenties were spent in a marriage to a man I didn’t want to be married to, in a city I didn’t want to be living in. There were many problems with this life —one of them being that our apartment never had a single bookshelf. In this apartment without a bookshelf, I studiously avoided writing. I occupied myself, instead, with studying chemistry and changing diapers. This life, of course, was not sustainable. After four years I left the man. After six, I left the city. I moved to a basement apartment of the Midwestern town I grew up in. I went to Ikea and bought two bookshelves. I enrolled my children in the elementary school I had attended. I started to write after the children’s bedtime. I published a few stories.
Now, I have two more children with a man I want to be married to. The original two are grown and off to college. I have dozens of bookshelves, full of books. I have run out of ways to avoid writing, so I write. The years I had spent as mother, teacher, friend, sister, barista turned out not to be a waste after all. It gave me something to write about.

Work Terms

$65/hour, 10 hours/week, flexible hours, payment through SafePay