My mom called me a bad writer and I loved it
Thanks a lot Mom
My “relationship” with writing has been a strange one. I never was good at english classes in high school and when I took a college english class my senior year, it took all I had to pass with a C.
After school (no college for me) I found myself reading more and more and enjoying so much of it. Why not write some? I thought.
Obviously writing wasn’t my forte going into this (the nicer way than this title and what my mother actually said) but I still wrote. Oh boy did I write.
I wrote when I felt like it, when I felt “inspired” — This got me nowhere, slowly.
Then I wrote a story everyday for over 50 days and never published a word of it.
Then I wrote for 50 days and published the stories and no one read them.
Then I wrote stories that added something different — a little bit of me.
Eventually I found that interesting photos and unique things like having an older brother with Down syndrome were what truly made these interesting.
I might have gotten better at writing but it really doesn’t matter. I feel like I am a better writer. I have the confidence to have an idea, write about it, and tell everyone I know, every single day. It seems crazy but that’s what I got better at wring for over 100 days straight. Not grammar or other technical skills — I’m just as bad at those as I was on day one and I don’t care one bit.