During the great garage clean-out of 2019, I’ve been coming across random folders of old school work. A few of which contain some of my early writing. Mostly short stories.
Surprisingly good if I do say so myself, given the age I was when they were written. Oddly, had you asked me a year ago if I had ever written anything in my past, it would have been an emphatic no. Recollection of writing ANY of these things completely escapes me.
It’s troubling to some degree. There is, what appears to be, a 20+ year gap in my writing, and I have no recollection of ever writing anything in the past. I have completely erased it all from my mind.
The story shared below was written when I was 13 or so based on the print type and grammar and of course the captivating title, “Wood Cutter Saves Girl In Daring Rescue”. My love of the word “almost” is humorous. Run on sentences galore. But I managed to net an A-. Busy Brain Award coming right up!!
I don’t remember the class, the teacher, or the story. When I found it yesterday I read it as if someone else had written it entirely. On the edge of my seat mind you, rapt attention on what would happen next to the poor girl….said only partly tongue in cheek.
Speaking with my mom yesterday, she shared that I apparently use to write ALL the time. Volumes and volumes of poetry, short stories, journal entries. Then one day I stopped.
Writing has become something I thoroughly enjoy. Looking forward to each new day and the blank page in front of me. This is the music inside of me.
Has anyone else had this experience? Having something that you were once passionate about just disappear? I would love to hear from you. Please comment, email, text, or teddy-gram.
See you on the journey.
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