Writing…it is the next thing we’re taught behind reading. It’s the next reasonable step to becoming literate and worthy of “moving up” in school. Don’t get me started on actual comprehension, composition and flair…those are totally relevant to each student’s capacity and willingness to learn. What I AM referring to…is the passion to write.
I have been writing (in the passionate sense) since I was in grade school. We had to have “salt & pepper” composition books with our names on them. We would be given a time of day, each day…to write our thoughts journal-style. No one was to read our writings but the teacher. WELL…clearly, as much as people like to dip in my business NOW…they did so then. I was out sick one day. When I returned…some of the girls in my class (which was comprised of 5th and 6th grade “above average” humanities students) …were standing waiting for me at my desk. We made our way up to the coveted third and top floor of the school and into the one class that housed a stage. It was also connected by way of the cloak room to the music room…this class was my haven. Yet, before we’d gotten there…none of the friends who spoke to me all of the time paid me any attention. I didn’t think anything of it. So, I approached my desk they figuratively tapped their Buster Browns in anticipation of my arrival to confront me…meanwhile, my heart dropped at what they could possibly want.
“Why did you say you cant stand ******?”
“I didn’t say that…” I replied
“Yes you did…it’s right HERE!” as one pulls out my book and shows me my entry.
“I didn’t SAY anything…I wrote it.” I justified.
“Are you being smart?” one asked, who was a 6th grader to my 5th grade status.
“No, I’m answering your question. Anyway, it’s my book and no one is supposed to read it.”
“Well, we did…and we don’t like what you said. She cried when she saw this. You should be careful what you write.”
They didn’t speak to me all day…and quite possibly a few weeks longer. I actually remember that in the interim, a new girl came to the class named, Samantha…who I became fast friends with. As I played with Samantha, sat with Samantha, had lunch with Samantha, slept over Samantha’s house…they slowly but surely befriended me again. They had no idea that I wouldn’t cry. They also didn’t know me very well…I wrote everything they did to me down in that very book! Hmph!
After that, I kept several more journals that got violated down the road…yet, I keep writing in them. I wonder why? LOL
My desire to write is so strong that I write drivel when thinking. When I’m sad, I will doodle and write affirmations to myself. I’m always writing in some form…even if I’m not composing a blog, or a story or statusing/tweeting. Writing to me is like air. I write, even if I never post it or share it with another soul. Writing is my best friend…and it never lets me down. I don’t have to worry about what writing thinks of me…it loves me. It gives back to me WAY more than I give to it.
I felt this movie line DEEP down the first time I heard it…
“If when you wake up in the morning, the first thing you think about is writing…then you’re a writer” ~Sister Mary Clarence/Whoopi Goldberg — Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit
That speaks VOLUMES to me. I go to SLEEP thinking of things to write. I wake up with plays, musicals and songs fluttering about in my brain. Writing is NOT formulating words in sensible paragraphs. It is projecting your soul into those paragraphs and evoking feeling, response and in some cases…awe, with those very words.
I am a writer…nice to meet you 🙂