Flash Stories & Poetry Day 24: Creative Non-fiction "How I Became A Writer"

 

Hey, everyone.

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.

 

But anyway, that's it for today. If you have the time, please check out my books for sale on Amazon which you can find through my author page. The link is below. Also, I reworked my Patreon page, so why not give it a look and consider becoming my patron. I would appreciate it.

Keep writing, my friends.

More About Bryan C. Laesch:

My Works:

Amazon: My Author Page, My Influencer Page
Facebook: Bryan C. Laesch, Bawdy Scholar
Patreon: Bryan C. Laesch
Twitter: BryanofallTrade
Youtube: Bryan C. Laesch, Bawdy Scholar

Flash Stories & Poetry Day 18: Reflection "Lesson to Learn"

Hey, everyone, and Happy Thanksgiving.

Now, for today's writing exercise, I'm going to be doing something a bit different. Typically I spin the wheel and write as whatever genre I've been given, but since today is a non-fiction day, I'm actually going to do a reflection. On what? Well, my high school days, yet again. I really hope I don't sound like a broken record, but again, they do say your high school years are some of the most formative in your life and I do feel like something larger happened to me than the average high schooler, but there's a point beyond that. So, let's get started, and since I do tend to wax philosophic occasionally, I'll still be timing myself so I can stay on task.

So, today's topic is... Reflection "Lesson to Learn."

Thirty minutes on the clock: 30:00. And... go.

Now, like I said, some say your high school days are some of the most formative of your life, and I feel like mine were no exception. See, I attended Notre Dame High School in Harper Woods, and I loved it there. Sure, there were one or two people I had problems with, but for the most part, I relished my time at ND. I never used to like school until I went to ND. I wouldn't say it felt like home, but it did feel right and good in a way I can't explain.

Now, in March of my Sophomore year, right in the middle of our spirit week which we called Irish Week and celebrated during the week of St. Patrick's Day, a news story broke that wasn't supposed to yet where Cardinal Maida, the archbishop of Detroit at the time, would be closing 15 Catholic schools throughout the Archdiocese of Detroit due to money problems, and the schools that were closed included grade schools and high schools alike.

When my mother told me the news in the morning, I refused to believe it. But when I got to school that day, it was the only thing on everybody's lips. Nobody knew anything except for rumors, but at about 8:00 when our first class was supposed to start, Mr. Kuhn, one of our advisors, walked the halls and told everyone to gather in the gym. We were supposed to have some sort of spirit week activity in there, I don't remember what it was, but we were separated by class. Fr. Sadjak, who was principal the year before and my Latin teacher for the two years I was there, led us off in prayer where the emotions of the situation did overwhelm some of us. Course though, no one actually broke down because we were an all guys school. But the next few hours descended into a spirit week activity/bonding session as we all pledged to do what we could to prevent the school from closing. It was extremely heart-warming. Unfortunately, as can be guessed, we failed and were forced to disperse.

Angry at the world and wanting some form of retribution for what we lost, we took our anger out on others leading to a not-so-positive reputation at the school that most of us would go on to attend, Bishop Foley Catholic High School in Madison Heights. One teacher, upon finding out that a student she didn't know at the time was from ND was from ND, asked him, "Are you bitter, too?" Course when we all heard that, we wanted to slap the sh*t out of her. But, it was true; we were bitter. Some of us did assimilate into Foley, but most of us were loathed the experience. By Senior year, we had settled down, but Foley never met our expectations and was always worse than ND in practically every way. Attending Foley at the time felt like insult to injury. The world had curb stomped us, and then kicked us in the nuts while we lay in the gutter.

But as I look back, I can now see that things weren't that bad, and I do greatly regret my actions at the time. Foley welcomed us with open arms; some of the administration was pretentious as hell, but the student body and a good number of the teachers were fantastic and understanding. Looking at my year book, a number of people mentioning that they were glad I chose Foley after ND closed. What's funny about that is that I didn't choose Foley, my parents did. But as my Senior year was coming to a close, even then I began to regret who I was and what I had done. It was at that time that I could feel a change, and part of me didn't want to leave.

In the animated web series RWBY, a character loses the lower half of her arm in battle. A prosthetic arm is supplied to her, but she doesn't try it on. Everyone wants to see her return to "normal," but as she says, having lost her arm, that was her new "normal." At which point, her father says "Normal is what you make of it." He goes on to explain that just because something terrible has happened to you, that doesn't have to stop you from being who you want to become. It would've been great to have that piece of advice back then, but as a headstrong kid in my teens, all I wanted was revenge or to just surrender to life. I wanted Notre Dame back, and I would've done anything, no matter how impossible, to get it back. But, I never would, so I grieved.

Ten years after the fact, I am left with a pile of regret, but my reunion offers me a chance to set things right. That's one of the reasons why I'm going. Some people I do need to apologize to, and others I just have to show them that I'm not just a hardass and that I would take something valuable away from my experience there. But there's something else.

As you can tell, losing ND and going to Foley has had a great effect on me. I can't shut up about it and I can't stop thinking about it. I can't rest on it. Why? Is it just because I'm an INTJ and we think everything to death? Possibly. But, I have a feeling that the experience was meant to teach my something. I was supposed to learn something or do something, and I didn't and that bothers me. The whole experience was far too significant to just have been a random occurrence. What is it that I'm missing? I don't know, but I feel like I'll have a chance to accomplish whatever my task is at the reunion. Sure, I do get the feeling that it would've been easier ten years ago, but I think there's still a chance. That's another reason why I'm going.

Some of the people from Foley have been on my mind lately; one of them has been up there for longer than I care to admit. The psychics say there could be a connection between me and them, or that something important happened to them in their lives, but regardless, I want to know. I want to be enlightened. What is it about them that I can't forget them, that makes me miss them when I barely knew them, and that makes me want to see them so badly? I have a task to complete. I just have to make sure I don't fall back into my old habits when I get there and start acting the wallflower.

***

 

Alright. Can't say stop the clock as I did go over time. Not a lot though, maybe just a minute.

Anyway, I've got stuff to do during this holiday. Wish me luck at my reunion and pray that I find the answers I'm looking for or that I can finally find peace on this matter.

Keep writing, my friends.

More About Bryan C. Laesch:
Amazon: My Author Page, My Influencer Page
Facebook: Bryan C. Laesch, Bawdy Scholar
Patreon: Bryan C. Laesch
Twitter: BryanofallTrade
Youtube: Bryan C. Laesch, Bawdy Scholar

100th Post! Flash Fiction & Poetry Day 9: Autobiography "High School Confession"

Ahhhhhhhh!

Hey, everyone. If you're wondering why I'm starting this post with me screaming, it's because this is my 100th blog post! Ahhhhh! Actually, I'm not really that excited, but it is interesting to see how far I've gone/come in five or six months. I also want to remind you all that my play The Passion of Gloucester and Sinead is still available for free download. You can get it here.

Anyway, today is the 9th day of my daily writing. Let's get it started.

Wheel of Genres, turn, turn, turn! Tell me the genre I will discern!





Today's topic is... Non-fiction--Autobiography! Holy smokes. Just the other day I was thinking the wheel was fixed because I've gotten so many poetry ones and I've gotten cinquain twice. I was actually thinking of breaking the wheel down into three: poetry, fiction, and non, and then using them in order just to make sure I got some variety. But anyway, what the crap am I supposed to write for this? ...I know what. My high school reunion is the Saturday after Thanksgiving, so I'll write about my high school days.

Thirty minutes on the clock: 30:00. And... go!

***

So, my high school days were a little odd in that I didn't go to just one high school. That's not to say that I went to two at the same time, but I did have two high schools. See, I started out at Notre Dame High School in Harper Woods; a Catholic, all-boys school operated by the Marist fathers. In Michigan, there's another Notre Dame called Notre Dame Prep which was supposed to be NDHS 2, but I'm not going to go into the story of why and how because I didn't end up at Prep. I ended up at Bishop Foley Catholic High School in Madison Heights; a co-ed school mostly operated by laity (which is a huge drag) and with higher standards than ND. But how did I end up there?

Back in March '05, the Archdiocese of Detroit was headed by Cardinal Maida, and I can tell you that he wasn't very popular with Catholics in the AOD. The fact that in March he decided to close down 15 Catholic schools of all grade levels in the diocese didn't help much either. One of them was my alma mater ND, but we didn't go down without a fight. No, we made one hell of a racket and did whatever we could to stay open. In fact, three separate, individual, third parties tried to buy ND from the diocese, and each offer was bigger than the last. The reason for our closure was because of our massive debt and Maida thought he could sell the property ND was on because it was highly valued land. However, karma's a real bitch and that deal fell through which meant ND sat there, closed, for a number of years before a charter school bought it. So, as you can guess, we lost the battle and I was forced to attend Bishop Foley.

I tell you, this was not a transition I wanted to make. It's not a transition that many of my friends wanted to make either. When we made it to Foley, so many ND guys ended up there, someone joked it was ND Part 2, but obviously there weren't that many of us. But going back to the transition, a good chunk of us were bitter. It's possible we all were bitter, but some made the transition to Foley much more gracefully than myself and some of the others. As a result, we split into two groups and chiefly amongst my own was my friend John, best friend #1, O'Meara, Babecki, R. Hill, M. Reese, Roe Radik (his name Scooby-Doo style), and for a while, Gabe. (He eventually transferred out because he found it so abysmal.) But these fellows essentially became my comrades through the dismal two years we "suffered" through Foley. But what was so bad about it?

Well, there are quite a few areas where Foley didn't measure up to ND. For one thing, their food sucked and was expensive. A small box of fries cost $2, whereas at ND the fries were the main fare. For $1.25, or $.75 for a half order, you got a mountain of the tastiest and longest fries you've ever seen. Another problem was that Foley had a tougher grading scale and was more difficult in terms of academics. Some of us who were A- students suddenly became B+ students because 90-92 was no longer an A. Another issue was how many variants of the uniform they had: there was a perfect uniform which included either a sweater or sweater vest, there was casual Friday but our casual shirts had to bear the Foley coat of arms, and the uniform didn't make sense either. You were expected to wear khaki pants and a button-down shirt, but you could wear any sort of sneakers or tennis shoes you wanted. At ND, we had to wear to dress shoes and a belt, but we could wear any sort of dress slacks or dress shirts we wanted. And we only had to dress up, which meant "guys in ties" on days when we went to church. The Foley spirit week was also lame as hell whereas at ND it was a fierce competition the likes of which you've never seen! That's not to say Foley didn't have any school spirit; believe me they had tons and the class of '07 had the most--they won spirit week all four years and the girls Powderpuff team thrashed the '06 Seniors. The problem was the themes for spirit week along with the games they played. At ND, we were men, and so we had very manly themes and games. But Foley was co-ed, so...

But there were some things Foley did do good on. To be honest, I valued the more intensive spin on academics, and looking back, I do feel like a Class A douchebag for being a douchebag. Since I couldn't take my frustrations out on Maida, I aimed them unfairly at Foley. I never did anything really mean or cruel, I just wasn't very nice and I was complete ballast when it came to spirit week. I had no school spirit and everyone was going to know it. The people at Foley were very nice, very compassionate, and very welcoming. I was too pissed off to see that. I did calm down in my Senior year, so much so that in the days leading up to the start of the new year I relished going back, but I already had a reputation and I didn't know how to undo it. Back then, I probably didn't want to undo it. I was and still am proud of my days at ND, but I wish I had handled things better at Foley which is one of the reasons why I'm so looking forward to my reunion so that I may make reparations. There's at least one apology I should make in person.

So, when I look back, I can't help but regret the opportunities I missed out on by being such a douche. One of them was my first real chance to have a girlfriend. It wasn't until a couple years into college did I realize that I had gone to school with some of the cutest and prettiest girls in the world, and I knew that by how much better they looked just a few short years into college. They went from cute and bright-faced to mature and almost sexy. Now, I did have a school crush at Foley, but she was in the year after me, '08. Instead of focusing all my attention on her, I should've kept my eyes and options open to the girls of my own class. I wonder what they'll think of me now. (How you like me now?!)

***

Okay, I'm going to stop the clock there with almost two minutes left. There's not much point in starting a new thought/paragraph only to be stopped so soon. I hope you all enjoyed my reflection/confession. Wish me well at the reunion.

But anyway, that's it for today. If you want to use the wheel I made, you should be able to access it here. And if you have the time, please check out my books for sale on Amazon which you can find through my author page. The link is below. See you tomorrow.

Keep writing, my friends.

More About Bryan C. Laesch:
Amazon: My Author Page, My Influencer Page
Facebook: Bryan C. Laesch, Bawdy Scholar
Patreon: Bryan C. Laesch
Twitter: BryanofallTrade
Youtube: Bryan C. Laesch, Bawdy Scholar

A Writer Must Write or Following Your Dreams

When I was younger, I thought I would be an engineer because that's what my Old Man was. And I seemed perfect for it, too. I had an interest in science and I was very good in math. They were my favorite subjects in primary school while history and English weren't. I did enjoy history and social studies, but English... I didn't get it. Why was I studying the language I spoke?

When I started high school, things seemed to be leading even more in that direction as my high school counselor offered me the chance to take honors science and math. Instead, I chose to take Honors English because how hard could it be? And when I took Latin, I suddenly learned what my English teachers had been trying to teach me. But the turning point came when I was a Sophomore: I had my first real run-in with creative writing when my teacher Mrs. Ayrault had us work on a number of creative writing projects that included short story and poetry. That's when I discovered that I could write, but I was still really good in math and science.

Mr. Wagner, my Sophomore Biology teacher, was shocked to discover that despite the fact that I didn't like Biology, I was still acing it and told me I should've been in Honors Biology when I was a Freshman. Misters Tocco and Szuminski, my math teachers for both Freshman and Sophomore years, were also impressed with my skill. Mr. Tocco made me "Checker" of the class, and after more Checkers were added, I was still the Checker of the Checkers. When I was a Sophomore, Mr. Szuminski had devised a formula that calculated how we had to do on the final in order to keep our current grade and what we would get in the class if we didn't take the final. He then called us up to the podium in order of highest to lowest grades. I was in the group of the A's and he had us line up around him in descending order--I was the left most one. (Meaning I was the best.) In order to keep my A, I only had to get a 64%, and if I didn't take the final at all, I would've gotten a B. (I took the final anyway and even did the extra credit question.)

But when Notre Dame was closed and I started attending Bishop Foley, things changed. My grades in science slipped a little in Chemistry and Physics, and when I tempted the fates by taking Honors Trig Junior year, I almost failed the class. I took regular Pre-Calc in Senior year and kicked its shit in. But I also became a history buff Junior year and continued taking Honors English courses. I struggled a little at first because BF had higher expectations, but I still took AP English as a Senior and took the AP test passing with a 3 out of 5. Not the most impressive victory, but considering I forgot some of the names of characters for my essay portion, it was actually really impressive.

Bishop Foley also had a literary/art publication called Rhapsody that I joined both years and submitted work to. In my Senior year, I was Editor-in-Chief, a position, that if I'm honest, I didn't deserve. But I also took Creative Writing Senior year--that's where it became abundantly clear to me that I had a gift and that people were impressed. I won an award for being the best, and my Creative Writing teacher, Mrs. Sienkiewicz, who was also the faculty moderator for the school paper, told me that if she had known a student of my skill had existed, she would've hunted me down and made me write for the paper. Talk about a feather in your cap!

But not everyone was enthused to hear about my success in writing. Senior year our counselors called us into one-on-one meetings to ask what we planned to do with our futures. When I told my counselor, a woman that I was already at odds with, that I wanted to be a writer, she told me "That's really starving artist" something or other. I didn't listen obviously. But when I started at Macomb Community College, I double majored in English and Math because I wanted to capitalize on both of my primary skills. But! As time went on and I continued to Wayne State University, I focused on English and the pull to be a writer felt stronger with each passing day.

But college wasn't all that good to me and I still question whether or not I should've gone. Just six months after graduation I felt lied to and cheated. Not just because I bought into the idea that having a degree would make things easier for me, but also because I had accumulated a load of debt and I had no desire to work a regular 9-5 five days a week for the next 40 to 50 years of my life. When I got into college, I learned how liberating it was to be an adult, but because I had the safety net of my parents which included not making me get a job so long as I was in school, I didn't learn any of the responsibilities of being an adult. I didn't learn the value of time and pissed away a lot of it. Time that I could've used to write. And now, I'm 28 facing a high school reunion in November and I don't have much to say for myself. Which is one of the reasons why I'm so gung ho to publish shit left and right so that I can brag about something. But that's not what's important here.

Last night, my Old Man and I were watching Last Man Standing on the Hallmark channel. It's that Tim Allen comedy that was just cancelled. Anyway, the character Eve, played by Kaitlyn Dever, who is Tim Allen's youngest daughter on the show, a few episodes previous, was rejected by West Point and had hit a low point in her life. Feeling lost and confused, she settled on music and started writing songs. In the episode we saw, she performed a piece solo and brought the house down, but she told Allen's character that the house's manager said she sucked. After figuring out that the house's manager had said the opposite, Allen confronted Dever. Dever posed the rhetorical question of why would she lie about being told that she was good. Allen suggested that it was because music was very important to her and she was afraid of failing, and that the failure she felt at being rejected from West Point would be all the worse with music. But Allen told her that she only lives once and that life is too short not to pursue her dreams and so, she should run directly at whatever scares her the most.

I took it to heart because being a self-publishing author is scary. But, my Old Man had a different take on it. He said that he wouldn't have told her that because being successful in music is more about luck and politics than it is about skill, and that's no way to live. I had always had the feeling that my parents didn't believe in me, but that pretty much confirmed it. A few weeks when I told him I needed to cash a few savings bonds to give myself room to breathe to think about a few things, he laughed maniacally (also sarcastically), and said "You'll be working at a pet store yet." (I'm a certified dog trainer.) But the derision was clear. So, I wasn't shocked to hear him say that he wouldn't advise a kid to pursue music.

So, what then? Well, despite what my parents think, I'm not going to give up. In the past few years, especially the last couple (after college), I've learned what I want most and I've learned what's really important to me. I've decided I'm going to pursue everything I want which includes being a writer. (It also includes being every girl's wet dream, so that I can find the girl who's my wet dream.)

But I'm not just going to be any writer, I'm going to be big. I'm going to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Stephen King, JK Rowling, and Shakespeare. I'm Bryan C. Laesch, the Writer. But if I had any advice to any writers just starting out, it's that a writer must write--that must become your creed. Don't waste your time. Write as often as you can, especially if you have a great safety net. Never stop moving forward.

Keep writing, my friends.