To all you Kindle owners, May 24-27 Amazon will be posting my novel free of charge to help promote my book. Please share with as many people as possible, as reviews are always helpful to guide potential customers and promote future sales!
Over the past few days I’ve received positive feedback. A few individuals noted they weren’t aware this was a hobby of mine. I thought I’d share a little background.
More than twenty years ago I wrote a story. I was just a child so it wasn’t anything to be taken seriously. It was less than a page long and not something I did for any school assignment; Heck, it wasn’t even original. I can’t say I’ve always wanted to write. I can’t even say I’ve always enjoyed it either. But it’s always been something I was good at in school…or so I thought.
I told myself I was good at writing for a long time. My work was decent enough to get good grades in high school. It was even something I enjoyed doing in high school. My assignments were typically opinion-oriented; and I have an opinion on just about everything. During my senior year of high school I started working on something that became lengthy, though not very good at all. Again, it wasn’t original. It lacked substance and it wasn’t descriptive enough. At the time I thought it was decent and worked feverishly for over a year. I abandoned it once I realized how bad it really was.
My first year in college I met my first professor: a Composition I teacher named Bryan. For the same of anonymity I’m keeping his full name removed. I remember thinking he was a complete ass. My first assignment was an essay; an opinion essay. I don’t even remember the topic. What I remember is this: he handed it back and told me “this is the biggest piece of shit I’ve ever read. Do it again.” From that moment on he worked me to the bone. My papers came back with constant red marks. The smallest errors were circled and notes were made in the margins with long explanations. He took the time to point out every flaw I made in everything I wrote. I had him for Composition II also. At the end of that semester I handed him a paper that he gave back to me a week later and said “this is the best thing you’ve written for me. Good job.” I wish I had a copy of it. I hated him for a long time. I felt like he was constantly picking on me just to feel good about himself. I did eventually fight back some and gained his respect. I think he was trying to teach me not to take anyone’s crap, not even his.
I remember Bryan telling us to take pride in the things we write. I don’t always follow through with that one. I know that I don’t put 100% into everything. Sometimes I barely put in enough to get by. But on a lot of the things I do write, I always hear his comments. They cause me to question every word in every sentence. I may not be able to work everything down to the point where he wouldn’t ever have a comment. I don’t have the option of finding out. I learned last year he passed away a few years ago. I honestly don’t know what he would say if I could hand him something I produced recently. I just try to put the effort in that would have gotten the best response.
It’s strange to always be looking back at those classes. I haven’t been his student in over ten years. His class isn’t even associated with my degree but he’s still one of the few that stands out in my mind. He may even stand out the most
So here I am, twenty years later, hoping that what I’ve created isn’t a piece of absolute garbage in the mind of my Composition instructor. I’ve never really been good at telling a story verbally. My hope is I can tell the story with words and paint the picture while doing so.
