This Julia Cameron Writing Prompt Is My Fav
I was nine years old in 1984, and I was one of the “Angels” in Mrs. Dufault’s fourth grade class at The Immaculate Heart of Mary School in New York. Being an Angel meant that you had stayed within the lines, kept your mouth shut, and dedicated yourself solely to pleasing your teacher and your God.
When the “bad boys” acted out, Dufault would take the entire class into the empty church and make us all kneel on the cold, bare floor for the remainder of the period. Dufault would wander around tapping each of her Angels on the shoulder, thus relieving us of the punishment after only a few minutes. We chosen ones were allowed to sit quietly in the pews and pray for the troubled souls of our belligerent classmates still kneeling on their bare knees.
But I never sat. Martyr that I was, I kept kneeling. I was going to be the best Angel I could be. That was, until my eventual long fall from Mrs. Dufault’s heavenly grace.
I’ve been a writer for as long as I can remember. At the age of seven, I would go nowhere without my diary, constantly recording poems and short (very short) stories. Well, at the age of nine, while in Mrs. Dufault’s class, I was hit with divine inspiration.
See, I was going to be a nun when I grew up, possibly a saint. But I had a problem. We had been told that saints were pure, not…
