Again…Previously Untitled, Early Writings That Left Their Mark
March 29, 2011 2 Comments
Again I’m just writing from the hip and will likely put a title to this long after I’ve finally published, or should I say posted it? Publish…that button over there makes it seem more profound than it really is. Any yahoo can write a journal entry and make it so that everyone can see it. Is that really publishing as we are brought up to believe publishing is??? Seriously, a blog can be no better than someone enlarging a page of their diary and posting it on a bulletin board. But to actually publish! That would be a dream come true. While doing laundry a moment ago, I reflected on my history in writing. It’s kind of always been there with me.
My earliest memories of writing outside of standard class assignments was being at my grandmother’s house with a journal and mechanical pencil, well that and my expansion of an in class assignment. Two stories stand out the most, and I couldn’t tell you which came first so I’ll just tell you about both. The first started out as a story I had to write in my second grade class. I had a huge crush on a boy named Scott Carol, but he’d decided he liked another girl. So, in typical vindictive authoress style, I made a character after him and her, then heaped all sorts of ill luck on him, and to a lesser extent her. Funny how even then I focused more of my scorn not on the other “woman” but on the male. Anyway, the story was entitled “The day I Took My Pet Cobra to Show And Tell”… one wonder’s what my teacher told my parent’s about that one! I’m sure if I’d written something like that this day and age I would’ve been sent to a psychiatrist for observation. Then again…well, that’s for another post.
The other story, which I begin to believe was written later, was the only story I finished in the little journal my grandmother gave me. I couldn’t tell you the name of it, but I remember it had something to do with going to a cave by the beach and it was a happier story than the one previously mentioned. What I remember most about this story, is that I was given my first bit of constructive criticism, which led me to avoid too much leisure creative writing because I thought it meant I wasn’t very good. Being that my age was probably in the single digits, I know now that it just meant I had a lot of room to improve, but the passion and imagination was not lacking. Thank you Angela, for that first bit of criticism. To this day I hear you in my head asking me “How did they get to the cave, what did it look like?” even when I’m not writing about a cave, I remember your words and try to tell “how” and “what” more clearly. *Cousin Internet Hugs!* This is my best example of constructive criticism and me. Even though, probably two decades later, I remember this tidbit.
Well, why not. I think I’ll tell all about other stories through the years! I have a few I’ve liked so much. You know, even before my mother gave me the free Harlequin Romances, I was a sucker for writing romance. The next significant story I remember writing was in early middle school called the day I won the lottery. Yeah, my titles were quite original hu? In this short story, assigned by my teacher, My mother wins the lottery, we go to Disney Land, I meet a cute guy, he gives me my first kiss and a ring right before we have to get back. I liked it so much, I rewrote it in my personal journal. Unfortunately, when I had to switch schools later that year a bully stole it, mocked me for my crush on his cousin, and never gave back the journal. And they wondered why I didn’t like boys at my school…
Now I come to the story I’m currently making digital. I started it my Freshman year of high school and it’s called Different Masks. My inspiration was that by moonlight a boyfriend looked exactly like an ex. A very significant ex, and that got my brain to thinking about a very unrealistic scenario. That in turn caused me to try to write it as the plot for a book, where such things are not impossible. Sad though that I can remember the significant ex’s name, but not the other. I just remember he was a senior and I was a freshman. I learned how to play pool because of him though, and to this day I swear I never said the L word, but apparently he thought I did, which was why he ignored me for weeks before our breakup.
Next was another story that came from my own head sophomore year called Fayborne’s Crystal or some such like that. It was a Fantasy, with romance ofcorse. Inspired by the Pern books, a smidgen of My Lady Vixen and just for kicks I was going to throw in my favorite character from my D&D Campaigns Gemini Shadowdweller, who I’d thought never to play again. Never finished it, but I did take it out when I was taking a Creative writing class in college, dust it off and come up with a revamping of it. You might recognize it now in my list of Fantasy Writing as Elven Twilight. Phenol of Burke was changed to Burke, and F’nor (oh so blatantly stolen) was changed to Ven. I still laugh at that. I was sitting in my living room thinking that I could sell the story, since the world was my own and the races had their own spin, but I couldn’t put it out with the love interest sporting the same name as a character in Anne McCafrey’s Dragon Rider’s of Pern series. I was wondering what to change his name to when a commercial came on for Starbucks Double shot. Now the guy’s name is Glen, and I later thought it was Ben, but damn if it doesn’t sound like they’re singing “Ven, Ven Ven Ven, Ven Ven Ven, Ven Ven Veeeennnnn”, to Eye of the Tiger. Thus I named him Ven. But the Brownie, Zeba…well that was straight out of nothing.
My final significant fledgling story was called Voyage of the Heart. Can you guess what genre I wrote for? It was supposed to be a short story for Creative Writing my senior year of highschool. To this day, besides that story about the cave which I’m sure was no more than five or so pages and the two pager in middle school, it remains the only story I’ve physically finished. It was twenty pages of sci-fi romance, and labeled a novél by my teacher.
There have been stories since all these, but anything that came after was after I graduated from high school. Certainly there’s been other tidbits of stories between all these, in fact I’m sure the journal my grandmother gave me had at least one other story in it, but these are the ones I remember. I guess, this was more just me reaffirming that my love of writing really did stem at an early age, but as with most things back then, I thought that since I wasn’t professional grade that I wasn’t all that good at it. Anyway, I’m older I know better. Not saying I’m professional grade yet, but I know that I can grow and learn more if I keep myself open to it.