Wednesday, April 5, 2017

How we misjudge

How many of us have stopped following a dream because someone else has told us or we have believed they have said of us negative causing us to question our self. Or was there that guy in High school that you longed after wishing you would have asked him out in the lab but never did because you just know he would have said no?

My love for words started in Middle School. I still have binders and notebooks of sappy poems, short stories and other creative writing ventures I tried over the years. In high school, I wrote for my school newspaper and even was co-editor my senior year.
Then when I was accepted to Antioch and placed in a remedial English class for the few of us who sucked at writing based on a summer reading assignment. Why hadn’t anyone before now told me I sucked? The devastation was on par with a tornado or divorce it meant I could not be a writer; so I never wrote again--
Until 2009, when I was reading books by Charlaine Harris the author of the Sookie Stackhouse novels. I read them, loved them, and thought I could totally write books like this. And I started writing again. Fast forward blur blur blur. Three novels unpublished and over 250 blogs later and I have to wonder how much better of a writer would I be if I had not stopped for over fifteen years?

No one ever said 'DANYEL YOU SUCK'! But being placed in a class that not everyone had to take made me feel stupid. I had just passed AP English with a B. I was so confused. I did not realize until years later that Antioch was not only teaching me grammar but to write my own genuine thoughts. The paper they graded was regurgitated from the book I read. Me and my high school had failed to find Danyel’s voice blending facts from the book with my opinions. That is why I was placed in the writing course, not because of my suckitude. *which are grammar rules, I know I have not a drop of the rules.
My true hippie happiness if I am completely honest is reading something I wrote and thinking, 'that is so awesome, someone else must have written that'. Then remembering that it was me, and I smile.