When I was thirteen I decided I wanted to become a sports journalist. I spent hours reading The Sporting News, watching Sports Center, and reading stats in the newspaper every day. I joined the school newspaper, eventually became editor, and wrote sports articles for a local free newspaper. I wanted to go to journalism school, edit my college newspaper, and follow my favorite sports teams to random cities.
Then I discovered poetry.
In addition to reading whatever I could get my hands on, I'd get together with friends and we'd have poetry readings. We gave each other feedback, and laughed, cried, and traded books. I locked my poems, often written in ripped notebooks, backs of envelopes, and scraps of paper, in a broken metal box. (Who am I- Emily Dickinson? ) I left a note for my best friends- just in case somebody found it.
In college I majored in English and Theatre. I took playwriting, and countless poetry workshops. I filled notebooks and computer drives. I shared with others and gave and received awesome feedback. I loved it. Even graduating from college wouldn't stop me from putting words on a page and sharing with others.
Then I stopped. I just stopped. Jobs, a career in theatre, other life changes, and pursuing my Master's Degree turned this energetic and eager writer's brain into a tired, cranky, block . My metal box, left neglected in my closet, was nothing more than a nuisance to stub my toes on, and the only writing I did was emails.
Summer 2015 was a dark time for me. I was going through some changes in my life, and was far away from my best friend. Through Google Drive, we created a writing portfolio and began exchanging our work. It has been nothing short of magical. We have shared everything from gratitude lists, random essays, and poems. Some days I felt like it saved my sanity. It also created a record of this time- which I appreciate now that things have markedly improved.
As a middle school teacher, I love writing with my students, helping them learn to edit their work, and listening to them read. They teach me as much as I teach them. Even as I write this, with its corny teacher sounding ending, I'm thinking of how much I need to edit before it's right.
Maybe later.
Wow.. Can I just start by saying I L O V E D how you wrote this blog. My eyes were glued to the screen. I liked how the chronological nature of this post and how you start from your childhood to now. It's like you portray poetry to be this wind-spirit that seeks after your attention because it sees you have "the gift". I'm starting to sound a little mystical so i'll just stop. However, I loved this post and appreciated it. Please, be encouraged to keep on writing!
ReplyDelete