She was in my creative writing class before she got sent away. It was weeks and weeks and then a surprise post came on a Saturday. I don't think our class has been the same ever since. Writing is no longer something we do for points. It saves us.
She tries to tell us where to find her, but every time I look, she's gone.
This is me trying to figure out how to get everyone to write like her. Including myself.
I read her most recent post and it didn't make me cry. It made me swear. Four times. I felt a burning in my heart. It wasn't heartburn, necessarily. But my heart was burning. (It's different, I don't know how.)
So what's the secret? Maybe you have to be born with it. It's not something I can teach. Maybe you have to have red hair. Maybe you have to sit in the front row. Maybe the key is dedication. You have to read blogs for a year before you even take the class. You have to know Roah and Avery and Emily and all the greats. You have to read every blog (and I mean every blog) in the class. You have to comment and steal and comment and steal. You have to fall in love and know what you're falling in love with. Maybe you have to write about sad shit. Maybe you have to swear. Maybe you just have to be real. Maybe you won't become great until after you've already taken the class twice. Maybe you have to get sent away in the middle of the semester for anyone to listen.
"Somedays I wonder if I'm being heard. Or if I still have to cut off all my hair for some attention."I didn't think I'd ever get over Teenwulf. I didn't think I'd ever get over Syl. And certainly everything would die when The Devastation Diaries and Joel Wilder graduated. But somehow, we're all still alive.
My neighbor across the street got a birthday present this morning. It was a car. She's 17. Not 16, but 17. She woke up this morning, saw the car parked on the lawn with the balloons, and exhaled. Finally.
Somehow, I think that explains it all.
Oh my god. I'm speechless. Give me a second to figure out what to say.
ReplyDeleteI really did want to be remembered for something good. And I'm in shock I made that big of an impact as you say I have. I'm crying, if that tells you anything. But really, I'm the one that has to thank you. For this class. For providing a safe environment for me to speak my mind. For finding me some support. For being such an inspiring teacher and teaching me something I CARE about. This changed my life.
ReplyDeleteI didn't really get this, maybe because I never got anything, but at the same time I get that somehow that exhalation does explain it all. Whatever.
ReplyDelete(Also I'm really kind of sort of maybe bitter that you took me off your favorites list, but whatever.)
DeleteYour "maybe" paragraph... good advice. I'm gonna do it.
ReplyDelete"Writing is no longer something we do for points. It saves us." This was beautiful
ReplyDeleteI try so hard and I don't think I'll ever be a good writer. Maybe. I'm trying too hard.
ReplyDeleteI wonder sometimes if I seem real or fake, but nothing seems right. Maybe. I second guess myself too much.
As much as I people tell me they like my writing. As many times as I get robbed by strangers. Maybe. I'm just not self confident.
I don't know. Thanks for sharing, I guess...
Holy S
ReplyDeleteWe've all been trying to find you pleasefindmehere.
ReplyDeleteI don't even know who you are but you have impacted me so much as a person.
AS A WRITER.
And I won't give up looking for you sweetheart,
but I know I won't find you until you're ready.
And that's ok.