in the beginning…

My love for writing started in third grade at Dixieland Elementary.  My teacher was Libby Ellis.  She was an amazing hippy lady.  She’d rescue baby squirrels and bring them in her shirt pocket to school.  She didn’t shave or color her long beautiful grey hair that she wore in a braid.  She had a boyfriend named Chet.  It’s funny the things you remember 25 years later.  I remember hardly anything about any other teachers.

She was passionate about writing.  We’d keep a journal every day.  She’d reply and ask us questions.  She taught us the writing process.  Step by step, we came up with amazing stories.  We did brainstorming.  We did rough drafts.  We edited until they were perfect.  We did a neat sheet.  Then, we submitted them to my mom who would painstakingly typed them up in proper book format.  Then she’d bind them and put them in our contact paper covered cardboard covers and seal them with binding tape.  We had little labels on the front.  Finally, we used colored pencils to illustrate our prized possessions.

All of this hard worked culminated in a field trip to the Young Authors Conference at Florida Southern College.  We dressed nicely.  We met real live authors.  We were hot stuff.  I was forever hooked.

Writing gives you freedom to say what you really want to say.  It gives you the freedom to explain everything about your topic.  You can take time to research and fight your fight.  You can express gratitude or hatred.  You can express pain and triumph.  You are free to choose from any combination of words.  Writing can be formal or informal to suit your mood.

Then there’s the brilliance of words with so many meanings…

My favorite is fuck.  How many different ways can you use this amazing word?  Fuck off.  Get fucked.  Fuck you.  Fucking awesome.  Fucking hell.  What the fuck?  I could go on all day.

The only drawback that I find with writing is that words are so powerful.  Words cannot be unspoken.  Words cannot be unheard.  If you break a bone, it will heal.  If you break a heart, it is forever wounded.

I may not write to Pulitzer standards.  I only write to make me happy and that’s all that counts.

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