I come from a long line of story tellers.
Granted, most of the stories my grandmother told were rambling (hours long) historical commentaries that only she could follow (the end result of which was a bewildered and often bored listener). But regardless, she reveled in the opportunity to tell them. My mother loves to pass on amusing anecdotes, from start to finish without missing a detail — often over and over again. However, if it's a good story, doesn't it deserve retelling?
And then there's me. I too tend to tell stories over again (though I try to edit them appropriately based on my audience), and often to the same people. I can't help it. If it's a good story, I enjoy reliving the joy and laughter it brings — both to myself and others.
Most parents might look at a journalism career with slight trepidation. Mine were damn near jubilant. See, all my inclinations in high school pointed toward "starving artist" — art, theater, creative writing, music. When asked what I wanted to do when I grew up, I would shrug. I had no idea. Finally I came to the conclusion that of all my interests, writing was the one I could put toward something viable. I would be a journalist.
Well, maybe.
I started out in college with that goal set firm in my mind. I was going to be a newspaper journalist — like Donald Woods or Lois Lane. By the end of sophomore year, reality set in. Turns out not only is a it a difficult job, but it's a high stress, low pay, unstable, ulcer-inducing occupation that you have to be really passionate about or you'll be miserable. Yes, I enjoyed writing, but did I enjoy it that much? I quickly switched gears.
I was going to be a paginator — a term I didn't discover until I was applying for jobs. I was going to layout and design newspaper pages, and if the opportunity arose, write some feature pieces.
The rest is over four years of "experience" involving late nights, layoffs, promotions, demotions, travel, pain, loss, tears, and finally, love and a home.
My mother has worried since the discovery of "pagination" that I'd give up on creative writing and the dream of some day getting a book published. She's always telling me not to stop writing, and that I need the practice.
So here I am, practicing, for any willing to read it.
Very interesting. I too started out in the art world. By my senior year i high school I was an orchestra, band, marching band, pep band, string quartet, choir and choral ensemble GEEK! My problem was that everyone thought, "She's going to be a music teacher just like her brother." Stupid me didn't think ahead to all the summer, spring and fall vacations. But by the same time I was this enormous music nerd I not only totally feared crowds and never thought I was good enough, I was being constantly compared to my brother. Which I don't think is fair to this day. And it didn't help hearing from family members: "Oh, she's going to be a music teacher just like her brother." I wanted to prove everyone wrong. I wanted to prove that I could do other things and that my life story didn't have to be written for me by others. But I always loved writing too. I was maybe 7 when I wrote my first My Little Pony story during summer break, all by myself. My dad typed it up on our Commodore 64 so I could feel like a published author. Then there was the play I wrote about squirrels and forest creatures when I was in third grade. Maybe that's why I have so many squirrel issues today. Hmmm... My grandmother was the only one who encouraged me to be a writer. At least for a while. I joined the school newspaper after I wrote an essay in seventh grade in the format of a news article, even though it was a creative writing piece. She loved it and just so happened to be the advisor for the school newspaper at the time so she recruited me. I also remember telling my mother before entering jr. high that I wanted to write about the orchestra for the school newspaper because I was sick of band always getting all the publicity and credit (obviously this was before I started playing alto saxophone: Another point: I was always told what instrument or musical 'thing' I had to do. In grade school I was selected for both elementary all-county orchestra and choir two years in a row, principal cellist seat two consecutive years. But my string teacher just about threatened me and said cello was my primary instrument and I was to put my complete focus on that). Sorry, getting back to Jr. High, so I started writing for the paper. By eighth grade I was assistant editor and got to interview the son of former Rep. Donovan and ninth grade was editor. Because of my experience and because my bro was previous editor, by the time I made it to high school I spent all three years, 10-12, as editor, pissing off a few people including a girl who went on to major in journalism at Yale. Now I wish Jessica would give me a job dammit! Well, now I live a life wondering what could've been if I listened to everyone else and had a little faith in myself (that maybe I didn't totally suck at music or wasn't as good as my brother). I have that same dream: To get published someday. Friends and family fight over whether it will be a children's book or sci-fi, but my first ambition was to do the first. Wish I could say here I come J.K. Rowling! But it's kind of hard to sit down and type with that mindset after spending a day typing out press releases and writing stories about what girlfriend got beaten up in Rome. Thanks for the opportunity to confess my extreme geekiness and share a dream or two. We better both keep writing.
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