"When you are not writing, you are a writer, too."
~ from Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones
I wrote my first book when I was four-years-old. It's called Beautiful Things and I still have it. My grandmother helped me to fold and string together construction paper. I drew illustrations and then dictated the words to her. It is no great literary work, but I think it proves that I was born to be a writer. (The fact that I was teaching school to my stuffed animals at age four, also proves I was born to be a teacher).
I had the same teacher for second and third grade, Mrs. Charla Hedgepeth. She had us write one short story a week. It was the most fun I had in elementary school and I loved those lessons. Every Friday, she read a couple out loud. I still remember that thrill in my tummy when mine was chosen. I have a couple of those stories and they are rip-offs of whatever I was reading or watching on TV at the time. Still, the writing isn't half bad.
While in elementary school, I entered several short story contests, but never won. I did, however, win some art contests. It baffled me, because even at the age of eight I knew I was a writer, not an artist. At the age of nine or ten, I decided to get serious. I emptied out my closet and turned it into a study. I used an oversized suitcase as a desk and strung the cord to my Raggedy Ann lamp under the door. I would sit in my study for hours upon hours and write stories. It was in the closet that I started my first novel, the story of a girl who owns her own horse until the day her parents sell it without consulting her. The plan was that she would spend the novel going on adventures, trying to retrieve her beloved horse. I never got past the second chapter.
At the age of twelve, I asked for and received a typewriter for Christmas. I was convinced that having a typewriter would improve my writing. The first thing I wrote on my typewriter was the beginning to a science fiction novel (no kidding - science fiction)! I had an elaborate outline and prologue. I made a diagram of the system of planets. The system consisted of several planets, two of which were inhabited by intelligent beings. One planet was at complete peace, with all of the beings working together in harmony. The other planet was at war, with many of the problems of planet Earth. The plan was that the warring planet was depleting its resources and would eventually invade the peaceful planet. The peaceful beings would have decide whether or not to fight to defend themselves. I never got past the second chapter.
Toward the end of eighth grade, my middle school counselor invited me to an academic camp for computer technology. It struck me as odd, because playing "Oregon Trail" was the extent of my interest in computers. When I declined the offer, she showed me the complete list of academic camps being offered and "Creative Writing" jumped out at me. I spent the first week of summer vacation in an unairconditioned classroom with Mrs. Judee Stanley and a dozen other fourteen-year-old writers.
I could write an entire blog post about that writing camp. The highlights were meeting a real-live published author, Magaret Rostkowski, getting some much needed encouragement from someone who wasn't my parents, and seeing my writing in print for the first time. In one week our writing instructor managed to have us prewrite, peer conference, revise, edit, type, and publish several pieces. We had our book, "Dream Makers and Future Takers" by Friday afternoon.
That was the summer of 1989. I attended three more camps that summer and I could write another blog post about each one. It was definitely my "coming of age." By the end of the summer, I was inspired to write a novel about my experiences. I created an outline and wrote several scenes that I hoped to one day insert into my novel.
I began high school with a lot of hope. My teachers were asking for a lot less creative writing and a lot more expository writing, but I continued to write short stories and work on my "camp" novel. I started having friends read my work for feedback. Unfortunately, the feedback I was getting was primarily negative. Maybe those that were reading my work were trying to be constructive, but everything I heard was very discouraging. I submitted some work for publication in local contests and the school's literary magazine. The only thing I ever published was a tiny poem that I had written in about five minutes for a class assignment. The teacher submitted it without me knowing. I wasn't at all proud.
I satisfied some of my writing bug by joining the Yearbook Staff my senior year and becoming the Copy Editor, because no one else would do it. Other than that, I have two creative writing highlights from my high school years. In Sophomore English I wrote a character sketch. In addition to a few corrections, my teacher wrote, "I want to know more about your character (in another piece, of course)." In my senior year, I took AP English from the best English teacher I have ever had, Ms. Jill Flamm. The first assignment was a descriptive narrative. I wrote about the first game of softball I played. She read it aloud to the class. She never said it was good. She didn't hand out compliments like that, but I could tell she thought it was and that was enough.
Most of my college years were dedicated to expository writing, but that's important, I think. I took a creative writing class where I learned a ton. My classmates never had much positive to say about my writing. My instructor gave me positive feedback, but I think that was his job. I started submitting work to the college of humanities literary magazine to no avail.
Once out of college and with a couple of years of teaching under my belt, I had more time to write. I attempted a novel a couple of times, never getting past the second chapter. I wrote some poetry for family members that I gave as gifts. They were appreciated, but your family has to appreciate that sort of thing. I joined a writing group. Most of the participants were writing YA fiction. They gave me some good criticism, but not much in the way of positive reinforcement. I quit the group.
I started reading "how to write" books. Most scared me into not writing anything. There were too many rules I couldn't seem to follow - avoid cliches, write every morning, write what you know. There was too much conflicting advice - begin at the beginning/start in medias res, use adverbs/don't use adverbs, describe/but not too much. The books froze me up - too terrified of making a mistake to do anything.
Then I found Chris Baty's "The Novel Writing Kit" on the budget rack at Barnes and Noble. It had an abbreviated version of his book, "No Plot? No Problem!" which I promptly bought and read cover to cover - twice! This was it! This was what I needed. Here was someone saying, You know how to do this. Stop looking for advice and DO IT - do it fast and do it without fear!
In May/June of 2009, I wrote my first complete novel in thirty days. It was exhilarating! I'm still riding the high! I've revised and edited my first novel into its fourth draft. I've written a second novel and will be writing my third in November. I've found my own writing process. I don't write in the morning and I don't write every day. I write when I have time, usually at night after the kids go to bed. I take advantage of my summers, holidays, and weekends - weekdays are just too much. I'm taking all writing advice with a grain of salt. There are as many ways to be a writer as there are writers.
Best of all, for the first time in my life, I don't feel guilty saying that am I a writer. I've always included it in my list of hobbies, but felt it needed an asterisk - I was a writer that didn't write - but now I am just a writer.
