And I Said To Myself, "Don't You Ever Give Up."

I've always loved telling stories. At the Halloween parties my family threw every year, I was always at the head of the bonfire with a spooky story to tell. I lived for creative writing assignments in school--that was what I got my best marks on. (Granted, a lot of the stories I wrote didn't sit well with my teachers.) But it wasn't until the sixth grade (still pretty young, I suppose) that I figured out I wanted to dedicate my life to story telling.

Of course, that realization didn't just dawn on me. I needed a little push to see it. Well, a couple of pushes, really. The first one came from my FAVORITE English teacher of all time--Mrs. Reeves. Honestly, if I'd known I'd never have a teacher quite like her ever again, I would've made more of an effort to hang out with her while I could. We had a creative writing assignment and when she was handing mine back, she said, in front of the whole class, "You've written before, haven't you?" When I told her I had, she nodded and said, "I could tell."

Now, that made me feel good. She'd more or less announced to everyone I'd done pretty damn good. But what made me feel even better was getting praise from people I didn't know. I wrote a little story over Christmas break that year and gave it to a friend to read once we got back to school. Little did I know, that friend passed it around to a few of their friends. Lots of people came back to tell me how good they thought it was--people I'd never even talked to! When I saw I could entertain people with something I loved doing, I decided writing was the path for me.

A few years later, in my freshman year of high school, I had an English teacher I absolutely detested. And I was pretty positive she felt the same way about me. We just didn't click. And my grades really reflected the friction. So when our first creative writing assignment rolled around (it took MONTHS), I figured I probably wouldn't do very well. But when I came in a few days later and she handed my paper back, I was surprised to see an A at the top. She gave me that shit-eating smirk of hers and said, "Maybe there's some hope for you yet."

And, naturally, it pissed me off at the time. Later on in the day, though, I got to thinking about it. Writing was my hope. It's what I'm good at. It's what ignites the fire in me. Then and there, I told myself I'd get published one day, no matter what. That I'd never give up--I'd grit my teeth and push myself until I reached my goal. (If nothing else, I could at least go back and laugh at my freshman year teacher. lol.)

That night, I went home and found my first writer's blog, which put me on the path to becoming an actual writer, instead of just a high school kid with a hobby. So, in a weird way, I guess I have that awful teacher to thank for getting me to where I am today. If she hadn't been such a bitch, I'm not sure I would've had the determination to carry on. I mean, I'm sure I'd still be writing (I love it too much to ever quit), but I'm not sure I'd be as serious about it.

What made you decide to write?

What makes you keep going?

HAPPY WRITING, LOVELIES!