My new column, The Bully Pulpit, is a long time in the making; since childhood, to be exact. I wrote it up after I had lunch with Carson Kressley, and he suggested the idea. My initial reaction was, YOU should be writing this, as he has such a wonderful way of expressing his individuality.
Anyway, he got me to thinking, and after all the stuff with the girl in Springfield, Massachusetts, it seemed like a good idea. How do you survive something like this and not write about it? Or do something about it? Then, I think the next day, there was another article in the New York Times, Phoebe Prince, documenting the tragedy.
I don't remember when I started writing the column, but it seemed to take forever. What doesn't surprise me are all the readers' comments I received saying they'd had a very similar childhood. Tragic, huh. What a lot of people don't realize about writing is that, when you do write about something personal, it becomes less personal after publication, because 99.9 percent of the time a million other people have experienced something similar.
On an ironic note, now I've written a gay and lesbian wedding book and live in place where the only bullies are internal ones.