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Memories of Writing

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Writing on the Pont de l'Alma next to the scene of Princess Diana's death

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Memories that don’t include the desire to write down a story elude me.  The earliest that I can pinpoint exactly what I wrote is when I nine.  There are two choices between desks; an olive green or a drab yellow.  Neither inspire creativity or ingenuity.  Even so when we trade desks every other month I still race to sit at the green.  I’ve never been a fan of yellow.

 

A prairie story went to the competition that year.  The title is forgotten, the characters a mass of muddy water, but the pig–I remember the pig.  Her name was Maurecia.  In sixth grade I wrote a six page poem based off the computer game “Heroes of Might and Magic” which my dad, brother, and I played with abandon.  That was a poem of which I was extremely proud and my teacher actually lauded me with a much coveted, “Well done.”

 

That same year I wrote about washing dishes.  It’s also the first time I found my ‘voice’.  This voice would elude me for years as I tried to mold my writing to please others, say what they wanted me to say, get the good grade.  That day, though when instead if documenting a point by point how-to essay on washing dishes I crafted a sarcastic satirical jab back at the inanity of sticking one’s hands in dirty water swirling with bits of food, I found my voice.  I found a piece of me that no one could take away.

 

As time progressed my writing hid itself in journals and pads of paper impressed with ink of multiple colors and textures.  As my writing became more conversational, revolving around my schoolwork, my aspirations, my crushes, I wrote out all that “stuff” and unknowingly improved my ability to write for longer periods of time as well as word counts.  If you were to read those journals you would probably see teenage angst and nothing worth publishing, but I look at the and see practice. Practice. Practice.

 

His name was Nick Jones and he asked us to call him Nick.  None of this professor jones nonsense with him.   The house of sand and fog was required reading.  I waded my rear end through it and dragged my feet as far behind me as humanly possible.  What better way to show my disdain for this book than to hit it with a dose of Kristina’s in appropriately sarcastic writing.  I know, right? How could I go wrong?  The paper written I finished it and turned it in resigned to the fact that I would indeed be happy just to pass. 

 

This was back when term papers literally meant “paper”; tangible, fibrous cellulose marked up with ink.  I received my paper back and there were the words I will take with me to my grave because they changed my life.  “You have talent.  You need to hone this.  Take some writing classes.”

 

It was the first time someone believed in my writing and valued my words enough to encourage me to spend time improving them.  I didn’t take his advice until later, but he is still the person who first encouraged me to unearth the buried artist inside of me and unleash her arsenal of words.

 

Thanks, Nick.

Who has influenced your writing or encouraged you to write more??

Comments

  1. Oh I loved this Kristina! For me, it was my 7th grade English Lit teacher. She invited me to write for the school newspaper and wrote in my writing journal that I was talented. Those are words and encouragement you don’t forget, especially as a teenager. I ended up developing a love for literature and writing, majored in English, earned a Masters in Liberal Studies and now work in Marketing/PR and write as a blogger 🙂 And all it took was one little invitation and a boost of confidence.

    • “…..one little invitation and a boost of confidence.” <—- so true, Crystal! The words spoken to us over our art, whether it be encouraging or discouraging sticks…maybe that's because it's a little bit of ourselves poured out and when people comment on that in a not-so-nice way it stings. Thank God for those individuals that spoke life and encouragement into our art.

  2. I rarely let anyone read my words. My papers were always the best, in the sense that I adored writing them regardless of what grades I got, which I honestly can’t remember. There were a few who ready my words before the internet came along who were always kind and encouraging, but those who told me to hide my words always won out. Crazy world we live in. I still fight those words.

    • Bah humbug to those telling you to hide your words (unless of course, it’s God, then listening to Him is always recommended, lol). I had those people in my life too. One, in particular, was very close to me and they told me I would “never make any money writing or speaking”. Little did I know that some things are worth more than money. Keep writing, Stacey. Keep sharing.

  3. Encouraged by my husband, hitting “publish” that first time three years ago was a really big deal. Although writing had become something I just couldn’t not do, I practically hyperventilated at the thought of people reading and commenting on my writing.

    Cue crickets. Who knew developing a following—people who would actually find me, to come and read me on purpose—required an even greater outpouring of oneself? 🙂 So much for being nervous.

    Fast forward through my time of wandering in the desert. . .

    In the past year I have been so very blessed by friends, family and fellow bloggers who have encouraged me to not only write in my voice, but now to also to take that next big leap forward to share through guest posting.

    Tis a wild, wonderful and humbling ride to be on this path with women who blaze the way with their grace, goodness and amazing talent!

    • Props to your husband for encouraging you, Kim! And yes, I love the community that blogging builds because then you come to a dry spot and God sends the right person into your path to tell you to not give up. Love those people!!!

  4. My friend Keiko tried to get me to start a travel blog with her. Didn’t resonate. Then when I lost all my hair another friend suggested a blog. This made sense. Now I can’t help but write my latest thoughts on life and God, and I’ve realized that I *love* to write (whether anyone reads it or not!). Thanks to both my friends for putting the idea in my heart.

    • Isn’t it funny how at one point an idea can resonate enough to do something with it and at other times it just fizzles? So glad you are here on this crazy blogging journey with us.

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