Ever since middle school, I’ve wanted to be a writer.

In seventh grade, I wrote a story for Mrs. Dahlen, my language arts teacher (although I think we just called them English teachers back then), which she read and returned with a note on top written in red pen that said, “This is really good. Did you write it?”

Even at the naïve age of 12 (and I was probably naïve well into my teens…and beyond?), I was both thrilled (she liked it!) and insulted (of course I wrote it! WTH?).

So I kept writing.

I guess you could say that I wrote to prove something.

Gauntlet thrown.

Challenge accepted.

It was always fun for me to throw sentences together, tweak them to make them sound better and come together in a meaningful way, turn them into a story, and I always understood grammar and spelling.

All good tools for a writer.

I would read a lot of writing craft books, and, of course, I read a lot.

How do published authors arrange their sentences?

How do authors make their ideas interesting and bring them to life?

I wrote more stories, did writing exercises such as copying various authors’ styles while trying to find my own style and my voice.

That didn’t happen for a while.

In fact, it’s still a work in progress.

But in a battle between speaking my thoughts versus writing them, speaking was never going to win with me.

I’m tongue-tied and uncomfortable speaking in front of people.

I always think of good things to say after the conversation is over, when it doesn’t matter anymore.

But give me a blank page and I’ll fill it.

Writing has given me confidence, knowing that I have a voice.

Plus, knowing I can write is my fun little party trick, or a coping mechanism.

When words fail me at parties, I know that even though I may look uncomfortable standing there against the wall, I can probably write better than most of the people there.

Just kidding.

I don’t do that.

That would be weird…and wouldn’t even help me be less uncomfortable. (I bet you want to invite me to all your holiday parties now because I sound like such a great guest. Haha.)

Have I proven myself to my 7th grade language arts teacher?

No.

I’m not published.

But I’ve proven myself to myself.

Did I write that?

Darn right I did. (BTW: Keep your rough drafts as proof.)

How has writing—or whatever activity you love—changed you?

Until next time,

~ Gail

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