I'm still writing about the importance of writing earnestly and for whatever reason, I'm still procrastinating. Oh, boy. Anyway, today will be a creative non-fiction day where I shall regale you of stories from my creative past and what experiences led to me becoming a writer. So...
Today's topic is... Creative Non-Fiction.
Thirty minutes on the clock: 30:00. And... go!
I don't remember entirely how it happened, but I do know that there were a few experiences that led to me becoming serious as a writer. There are events and stories going back to my grade school and middle school days, but those are paltry compared to what happened when I made it into high school. Now, when I was in high school, I was still under the impression I would become an engineer like my Old Man. Not because that's what I wanted to do, but because I was good in science and math. My future looked bright in both subjects. But then, something happened my Sophomore year.
In my second year of high school, which was much easier than my first, I took Honors Literature. The funny thing about this class was that the two main things we learned about were short stories and poetry. One of our big assignments for the first semester was to write a short story about something that happened to us but from the perspective of somebody other than ourselves. I wrote about the time I thought I was being clever and told my parents that my grandparents had agreed to take me to the church festival when actually they hadn't. See, the church festival was just down the street, but my parents wouldn't let me go alone. They eventually found out about my little lie when they thought it was getting late and called my grandparents. I was grounded for a month. Anyway, I also want to say that there was another short story I wrote then, but I don't remember what it was about. All I remember is that it had to be less than 750 words which was difficult for me at the time.
Later that year, we had to write poetry and I came up with some banging pieces and put it together in a volume called Poetry that Rocks!!!!! I was getting big into Rock and Heavy Metal at the time. Anyway, the experience showed me how good of a writer I could be, and I learned to love literature. This was also the year I started to really get into history. I was still good in math and science, but now I was equally competent in English and history.
Come Junior year, I found myself at Bishop Foley because Notre Dame was closed. One of the big differences between the two schools was that Foley was more difficult academically. I actually slipped a little in my science courses, that year I took Chemistry, and I almost failed my math class, Honors Geometry and Trig II; that was the first and last honors math course I ever took. Unfortunately, I only did marginally better in my AP Euro History course and Honors Brit. Lit, but I had fun in those classes versus Chemistry and Honors Geometry where I didn't. Chemistry eventually levelled out, but Honors Geometry continued to plague me. I have no idea why I struggled so much in that class, but I did. I took regular Pre-Calc. the next year and was the second best in all classes across the board. I was almost the best in fact, but that's a different story.
Going back to Honors Brit Lit, I had a little meeting with my teacher Ms. Welicko after our first little writing homework assignment. She told me I was a strong writer and had a talent for the "craft." I was also one of the few boys from ND that she liked. Apparently, the rest of them pissed her off. Anyway, Ms. Welicko was the moderator for an after school club called Rhapsody which was the school's literary/art/photography publication. We would collect people's works as well as add our own, and then make a magazine of sorts out of it and sell it at the end of the year, sort of like the school's paper, but we only came out with a single issue every year. I wrote a few pieces for that and that gave me more of a taste for writing, not to mention all the good Brit lit I read in class.
Senior year I took AP English and in my second semester, I took Creative Writing where I really got to cut my teeth on writing. My teacher, whose name I can't spell so I'll just call her Mrs. S., was really impressed with my writing. Like, really, really impressed. One of the best compliments I've ever gotten on my writing came from her, "If I had known a student of your skill was in the school, I would've hunted you down and made you join the paper." Mrs. S. was the moderator for our school's paper. But I mean, talk about a feather in your cap. I didn't win "Best Writer" award in the Senior elections, but recognition from Mrs. S. is probably better. I even won an award, which surprised me, for my creative writing. There was an awards/honors dinner at the end of the year, and I was named the winner for my work. Suck on that, Pat Higgins. (No, but Pat was a cool guy.)
Skipping ahead into college, I took the Fall semester off so I could try to sell Cutco professionally--didn't work out, but I was back in school my Winter semester. Unfortunately, I hadn't been to see my counselor and didn't know what classes I needed to take, so I registered for them all blindly on the spot. One of the classes was a Creative Writing class. My professor, Dr. Brooks, was my first encounter with a real writer in the wide open world. She was a bit weird, but I enjoyed the hell out of her class. She loved my writing, especially the creative non-fiction I wrote talking about my high school crush. I hadn't re-read it before I submitted it and I thought it sounded whiny. I thought my classmates were going to tear me a new one when my piece was workshopped. They didn't; they thought it was hilarious, and my professor admitted that I had a unique perspective that lends itself well to writing: the perspective of being on the outside and looking in.
When the class came to a close, Dr. Brooks gave us all feedback on our writing over the semester and one of her pieces to me was she said she wouldn't be surprised if I ended up being published some day. That made me feel really good. And while it is true that I am published today, that is self-publishing which doesn't quite have the prestige of traditional which is probably what she was talking about. But regardless, because of that class, because of the three previous years I had in high school, I was "ruined." I was on the path to become a writer. Engineering and reliable careers be damned! So, what's all this got to do with you, dear reader?
I didn't write this piece to relive my glory days, but to impart a bit of advice. I graduated in 2007 and I took that creative writing class in '08. I only recently self-published my own books and I only recently started keeping a blog. I wasted 9 to 10 years of my life doing the easy thing rather than working on my talent and skill. Just think of how far I would be if I had given myself the beans and started writing as if it were a career and not just some thing that I'm going to do somewhere in the foggy future. And that's the point of this story: don't rest, don't sit, don't do the easy thing; for the love of God, write. Write, damn you! Everyday is an opportunity for greatness; use it!
***
Stop the clock. Little less than a minute left. I must admit, that isn't the glorious ending I wanted, but it does get my point across. Hopefully, you've learned something from my story.
Keep writing, my friends.
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