I wish I really knew what the hell I was doing when I write. I think I'm mostly just winging it. I know that sounds crazy, crazier to actually say it, but it's true. I haven't had a writing class since high school. And that was a class assignment, the teach telling us to write something about why staying out of trouble is a good thing. I pretty much said to stay out of jail. (Duh!) C-minus, but I passed! Something about no footnotes, and my atrocious spelling. (This was way before Microsoft Word)
The challenge for me: creating characters from people I see every day, with enough bombs going off every few pages so the reader is saying, 'OMG! You're kidding.'
When did I know I had an aptitude? When I asked my son, in the seventh grade, "Hi, John. How's school?"
"It's OK.”
"Let's see what you have to do."
"Well...I got this paper I have to do about why education is a good thing. It's kind of a contest for the entire school."
"When's it due?"
"Well...ah...tomorrow?"
"WHAT?" (Kid needed help, I could tell.) "Well, we better get busy."
Week later. "Hey, John. How'd you make out on that paper you wrote?"
"Dad, you're not going to believe... (a weak giggle)" He whispered, "I won for the seventh grade."
"You won! You're kidding. That's great."
"Not really. Now they want me do it in front of the Open House."
"Upon stage. Like a speech? Terrific! You’ll do good. When it going to be?"
"Well...ah...tomorrow night."
"John? When were you going to tell us?"
"I don't know." His face was red. (The apple didn't fall far...)
I didn't write it for him, we simply sat at the table and discussed the possibilities. We knew he could probably copy something from a back issue of Reader's Digest. But I wanted him to do something original. Not like today; a simple Google search, copy and paste, "Look I'm a writer!"
Think outside the box. We came up with two young boys walking home together, "Did you do that homework on the solar system?"
The other, "Nah, I don't need that. I ain't going to never need stuff like that. I'm getting a job real soon."
"You're not going to graduate?"
"They need a dock guy down at Johnson's Hardware."
"But..."
and it goes on, how his competition for a job like that, without a high school diploma, would be enormous. 700 words later, written like a one act play, the boy decides he might need a diploma, and does the homework.
Well, was his teacher pissed at me. Amazed at what John had written, all so suddenly! Too suddenly for her, I guess.
I got, in a nice way, the second degree. "Your son really did a good job on...his...paper." She didn't have to use 'air quotes,' I heard it in her voice.
"Well, all I can say is he showed me the assignment, and well we sat down and discussed it together, and he came up with it."
I knew she didn't believe me. "He has potential as a writer. Maybe we'll get him into some other contests. Almost like...night and day," as she wandered off.
Okay, maybe I changed a few things in it...maybe...spelling, bad grammar, but that's it.
That was the first time I was ever praised for something I had a hand in writing. I remember it today!
No comments:
Post a Comment