If you asked me if I was a writer, I would probably say no. Or that I wish I were. But not really a writer, am I.
I'm not Yoda, either, fortunately.
I'll be honest with you now. I have never done an "official" English curriculum. Never. And yet if you asked people I know, they would probably call me a "word nerd", or some such thing. My friends know that I love big words and I'm a stickler for spelling.
Oh, and did I mention that the reason I've never done an English curriculum is because I'm homeschooled? That's why. If I went to school, I doubt I could have ducked something so important. =)
When I was younger, my mom would read to me. She still tries, but I hate being read to, I only like it when I'm doing the reading. Anyway, she would always read me good books. And my writing assignments usually involved our big book of Norman Rockwell pictures. I would find a picture that I thought was interesting and write a page or two about it. Mom would check my work and correct spelling, punctuation and such. I remember I was soooo thrilled the day she did not find a single mistake in my work. =) I wanted to learn to write cursive after one of my favorite babysitter's wrote me a note in cursive. And I did it by myself! I was an odd child...
I didn't really like writing that much when I was younger. Now? Totally different story. I still may not call myself a writer, but I do love writing. To me, it's kind of a release.
I also journal. Not quite daily, but often enough. When I was 12/13 I had a little diary, but I eventually quit writing in it because I felt like I only wrote stupid things. Like "We went to the beach today. It was fun. I got sunburned." and "I wonder if Hayden likes me?" However, a couple of years ago, Hayden (who does like me very much, coincidentally) suggested that I pick up journaling again, if only to have the memories. He keeps saying he's going to read my journal when we're old and gray, but I'm not so sure about it. I can write some pretty scathing things in that journal of mine. But now I love to journal because I can express my feelings in a way that keeps me from getting in trouble (most of the time) and I can remember special time in my life that I might not remember otherwise.
And then I decided to try my hand at being an author. As in writing a book. I'm not sure I'll ever finish. But it has been started. I emailed the portion I've finished to a friend, and he absolutely loved it. If I ever finish it, I'll be sure to let you know
And now my writing has moved on to the blogosphere. I love blogging probably just as much as I love journaling. It's a way to write about how I feel, and meet new friends along the way. I just have to get over the feeling that I have to write something utterly brilliant or it's not worth posting.
So, I may not say I'm a writer. But that quality is there somewhere. We'll see where it takes me in life.
(Here's a special sneak peek of my story)
She had heard the story often. Yet the young queen listened, contentedly glancing around the room. The dark stone walls felt ominous, but the brightly embroidered tapestries warmed the room considerably, both in temperature and atmosphere.
She caught Stephan’s eye as the bard continued. He smiled, the same warm smile that was always hers. Her brother, though older by 10 years, was her best friend, and she always delighted in seeing him.
Elaina sighed, thinking of happier years. Years when her brother lived nearby, in the same castle, always happy to help. But now he lived far away in Fengal, using his strong leadership skills there instead.
Now she was Westin’s ruler. And she and Stephan would do whatever it took to keep their countries united.
As she turned her mind back to reality, she suddenly realized which tale the bard was telling. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t noticed the change in stories. She smiled. This was her favorite. The beautiful young maiden who rescued her people with the aid of the great dragons.
How often had Elaina dreamed of these graceful teachers? She couldn’t remember the first time she had heard their stories. She wished she could call on some dragons right now. They would certainly be helpful.
The unity between Fengal and Westin was crumbling. Elaina and Stephan had seen it coming, but felt helpless to stop what was happening.
