I am right handed
When I was a small child I burned my hand on the stove top while 'helping' my mother cook spaghetti. For some reason I thought it wise to test the stove to see which burner was working so I would know not to touch that one. So intelligent. I remember it was the 3rd burner that caused my right palm to blister and burn, bubbling under my sensitive skin. My mother rushed me to the doctor as I held my hand in a bucket of ice and tried not to dump the ice on my lap in the car ride. I remember that this was the first time I was able to ride in the front seat. I had to wear a bandage on my hand for several weeks. If I knew more about childhood skill development I could tell you about what age this occurred, but mostly I just know that I wasn't in school yet and I was just learning to write my name. My bandage was thick and did not allow for much room for movement. It revealed all four of my fingers and my thumb only emerged during the last few weeks.
Most people would tell you that writing is about the formation of a thought from words and the ability to create a cohesive thought on paper. I believe being a writer begins with writing, and as simple as it may be, this is when I began to write. You would think that with my right hand in a bandage I would simply utilize my left hand or magnet letters or put off the task of learning to spell. I learned two things from this experience: 1) it is true when they say that people are inherently right or left handed, because I continued to use my right hand diligently and with much sacrifice & 2) I must have been more determined than I think I am. I chose to slid a pencil from my write through the outlet of my thumb in an effort to hold the utensil and practice my writing in a spreadsheet. It is difficult for any child to compose a letter and control the utensil to make writing appear legible. I suppose I have always been a bit neat and OCD and I would not accept sloppy hand writing, even considering the circumstances. So I practiced writing KC, as a nickname for Cassandra, again and again and again in the tiny little squares. I would expand my practice to words, like my favorite foods, and then sentences, like greetings. It was fun for me. Despite the wounds under my bandage I continued to write and enjoyed the challenge. When my bandage came off I quickly spiraled into a writing frenzy with my spreadsheet paper. I would write everyone's names, take notes daily occurrences, write about what we did that day and make it sound eventful.
Perhaps this gave me a deeper understanding of the importance of education. Perhaps this instilled a determination to succeed beyond obstacles. Not only was this accomplishment a personal feat, but it was a life lesson for me, even today. As an adult I over-analyze and second guess my decisions before I even have a chance to make them. I do not understand my efforts nor am I consistent in their endeavors. However, perhaps as a child, before I was really self aware, I acted in my true nature, at least I like to believe so.
Most people would tell you that writing is about the formation of a thought from words and the ability to create a cohesive thought on paper. I believe being a writer begins with writing, and as simple as it may be, this is when I began to write. You would think that with my right hand in a bandage I would simply utilize my left hand or magnet letters or put off the task of learning to spell. I learned two things from this experience: 1) it is true when they say that people are inherently right or left handed, because I continued to use my right hand diligently and with much sacrifice & 2) I must have been more determined than I think I am. I chose to slid a pencil from my write through the outlet of my thumb in an effort to hold the utensil and practice my writing in a spreadsheet. It is difficult for any child to compose a letter and control the utensil to make writing appear legible. I suppose I have always been a bit neat and OCD and I would not accept sloppy hand writing, even considering the circumstances. So I practiced writing KC, as a nickname for Cassandra, again and again and again in the tiny little squares. I would expand my practice to words, like my favorite foods, and then sentences, like greetings. It was fun for me. Despite the wounds under my bandage I continued to write and enjoyed the challenge. When my bandage came off I quickly spiraled into a writing frenzy with my spreadsheet paper. I would write everyone's names, take notes daily occurrences, write about what we did that day and make it sound eventful.
Perhaps this gave me a deeper understanding of the importance of education. Perhaps this instilled a determination to succeed beyond obstacles. Not only was this accomplishment a personal feat, but it was a life lesson for me, even today. As an adult I over-analyze and second guess my decisions before I even have a chance to make them. I do not understand my efforts nor am I consistent in their endeavors. However, perhaps as a child, before I was really self aware, I acted in my true nature, at least I like to believe so.
Writing Pays OffDuring the summers in elementary school my mother would give us workbooks to continue our studies. Students forget a percentage of their education over the summer and my mom had the idea that she would avoid this. My brother, sister and I had reading, writing, and math workbooks. We were expected to spend 30 min per day studying our books and were given .25 cents for each page we completed. In our writing books we were assigned to do work such as fill in the blank with the appropriate word & vocabulary matching. I plugged away at this book with much vigor and motivation earning almost $5.00 in the first month of summer. My enthusiasm quickly waned and I lost interest in the books. My sister continued her studies all summer and earned several additional dollars.
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Pen PalsAround the age of 11 my family took a vacation on a Caribbean cruise. On board I met a young girl my age. She and I agreed to be pen pals. For a few months we wrote back and forth. We colored our envelopes and put stickers all over our letters. We wrote several pages in our responses and told each other about our friends, homes and happenings. This experience was fun, however it quickly failed like many other childhood endeavors.
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Attempts as an Author
When I was young my favorite book was "My Father's Dragon" by Ruth Stiles Gannett. I still own a floppy, torn copy on my unusually small bookshelf at home. Accompanying this book are other texts that I have read over the years, but were unable to return. This shelf consists of some Shakespeare, mythology and George Orwell & of course Harry Potter. I realized a long time ago that some books are just too meaningful to let go.
I actually tried to write a sequel to the story myself. I wrote about the same characters in the same world, but I included more of the characters thoughts and opinions. I wrote what I thought would be good reasoning for actions and made the book more personal to me.
Throughout the years I made the attempt to be an author many times. In middle school I often visited online fan fiction blogs and wrote stories about Harry Potter characters outside the familiar plot lines. I thought I would write a book about a girl (very similar to myself) living in Hawaii. This girl lived an ideal life and had many interesting friends and a romantic interest. I only really wrote 10 or 15 pages of this book before I realized it was going nowhere.
I actually tried to write a sequel to the story myself. I wrote about the same characters in the same world, but I included more of the characters thoughts and opinions. I wrote what I thought would be good reasoning for actions and made the book more personal to me.
Throughout the years I made the attempt to be an author many times. In middle school I often visited online fan fiction blogs and wrote stories about Harry Potter characters outside the familiar plot lines. I thought I would write a book about a girl (very similar to myself) living in Hawaii. This girl lived an ideal life and had many interesting friends and a romantic interest. I only really wrote 10 or 15 pages of this book before I realized it was going nowhere.