I remember growing up with a very active imagination. My brother and I used to pretend we were witches from the movie Escape From Witch Mountain. We would jump around the room and toss things in the air pretending we were making it happen by magic.
Then, I would put on plays for my family with my Barbies. I would think up a storyline and set up a shoebox stage. My loving mother and brother would take their front row seats and watch as the play took form.
Once I grew up a little, I would write letters, poems, and short stories to escape from reality. I loved watching my stories play out in my mind. I couldn't get enough books to satisfy my thirst for the imaginative world. My characters could look, act, feel, and live where I couldn't. I guess I lived vicariously through the men and women my pen brought to life.
I just knew I would be a journalist or a famous author one day. In preparation for this career, I agreed to write editorials my senior year for a local newspaper. I had found my calling... that is until something happened.
I just knew I would be a journalist or a famous author one day. In preparation for this career, I agreed to write editorials my senior year for a local newspaper. I had found my calling... that is until something happened.
I wrote an editorial about sex and drugs within the schools. This was supposed to be kept anonymous, so I did what I was supposed to and told the truth about what went on in my high school. I wasn't the only student asked to do this, but the others were from different schools.
When the paper came out, I was mortified to see my name beside my words. I had told the truth, but my classmates and principal didn't see it that way. I was blackballed my senior year. Everyone turned on me save for one teacher. She stood behind me.
It destroyed me. I went from normal high school student to pariah. My Principal called my writing trash and went on to force me to share awards that I had earned solely. It crushed my writing. I quit putting words on paper for years after that.
Instead of writing, I became a band director. I love music, and I adored my students, but something was missing. I couldn't put my finger on it until watching a movie one day, and it clicked that I had a story to write.
Instead of writing, I became a band director. I love music, and I adored my students, but something was missing. I couldn't put my finger on it until watching a movie one day, and it clicked that I had a story to write.
I picked up my laptop and began pounding keys. That was three years ago. I felt free and whole again when my words flowed onto the page. I knew I wanted to write. I vowed then that no matter what bad reviews I received (and I've had a few) I would not abandon my calling again. So here I sit ready to take on the world with my pen and paper ... errr computer and keys.