It was a way to take the jumbled days of my youth and find some way to understand them, to vet my choices, to breathe.
And actually now that I think about it, I loved writing ever since high school. I hadn't always.
I remember sitting in Journalism 1 with an assignment to write a practice story.
"It's not the sound a puppy usually makes was my opening."
I remember the teacher read three openings and when he read mine he shared a look of approval. And even when he said it, there seemed to be a nod of approval.
It was very soon after that that he had me transfer into the real Journalism class--the class where you wrote real pieces for the real paper. Not practice.
And for the first time I had a great sense of pride. And it was because an authority figure believed in me. There was a great sense of satisfaction...purpose...mostly I felt like I was finally good at something. Good enough to be recognized. In all my years of life I had never been recognized before for any skill. And for the first time I was naturally gifted at something.
The last two years have been somewhat of a sabbatical. I'm slowly picking back up. It's been difficult though.
Something cool I found on Pinterest is this writeroftheprompts tumblr.
