So... I've been a little nervous to post for the past few days. In my efforts to be a good blogger, I've been trying to read lots of other successful bloggers. They have tons of great business advice (I'm nowhere near any of that), but it also makes me a bit nervous. Some talk about being careful not to repost other bloggers' ideas. I am always cautious when it comes to intellectual property and plagiarism, so I was feeling a bit shy about posting anything. I don't think I've stolen any ideas and tried to give credit, where credit is due. However, you've probably noticed my over-analytical style can also lead to fear, and that's were I've been this week. I do have about three posts in various levels of editing. Hopefully, some of them will make it past my crazy editing. Haha! At any rate, this is my post to "get out there" again. I wanted to have more than one posting this week.
On a better note, the boys and I have enjoyed the crazy, beautiful weather today. I needed to run some errands near the airport today and decided to make a stop by the airport observation park, and it turned into a wonderful "Almost On Purpose" afternoon. Yes, I am milking my blog title for all it's worth. After all, it says everything about my life.
My oldest son (for the sake of this blog will be called Regus #1) never ceases to amaze me. He has become so outgoing and generous. My husband and I were both shy as kids, so it's so funny to watch him play so effortlessly. At any rate, when we packed up this morning, he asked to pack a few extra sand toys for, as he put it, "...the new friends I'm going to make today." It was so thoughtful of him, and he made me smile. He is learning how to share so well. Plus, I'm guessing that he knows a plethora of Tonka trucks and sand toys would be irresistible to the other 4-and 5-year old boys. Well, he was right! He was like a magnet for all the other little boys. They had a blast digging in the sand, pretending to be pilots (afterall, we were watching airplanes take off and land), and chasing monsters. It was a picture-perfect moment.
Earlier, I struck up a conversation with another Mom of a four year old girl. After some conversation, she went to her car to grab her camera and began pictures of her daughter. Duh, it was a beautiful day. Why didn't I think to bring the camera? Next thing I knew, she was snapping pictures of all the boys running and jumping. She leaned over and said she'd be happy to e-mail the pictures to me. What a blessing!
So my little boy, er, man is teaching me to be more outgoing. You never know who you might meet along the way.
Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!
As a mom of two busy boys, I am always looking for new ways to use books, toys, gadgets, and foods to save some money... many of these finds are mostly on accident or just my attempt to re-use something. Join me in my adventure to find value in life and in things that happen... Almost on Purpose!
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Friday, February 18, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The identity of a writer
It was August 1999, and I walked into my Creative Writing class. It was my first writing English major course. I was thrilled and tormented at the same time. As a lover (by that, I mean, obsessed) of all things grammar, an English degree seemed like the logical choice. However, I felt that I was not a writer. I didn't just sit around thinking up cool plot lines for a book. If I did, my red pen (AKA, my brain) was always nearby to promptly mark through the bad sentence structure. How could I be a writer, if I couldn't write anything original?
I found a seat in the middle row. I looked around the room. I felt like I didn't belong. In each chair, sat students that clearly stayed up too late thinking up the next NY Times best sellers. Then, there's me... notebooks all neatly stacked, all necessary writing utensils (pencil, pen, and highlighter) in a neat row, and a printed syllabus covered with a sticky-note or two with questions for the professor.
Could everyone tell I was a fake? I couldn't write. I have an amazingly, awesome family that has always encouraged me at everything I did. So, I knew these thoughts were not from my childhood. Looking back, it was my fear of failure. At any rate, I thought, "Should I drop this class to save myself the misery?" No, (I'm also a deeply stubborn girl) I won't let my crazy thoughts win.
The Lord knew what I needed because He sent a professor from Minnesota (that's were my Mom was born)... even went to the same college as my grandparents. He had a very clear Minnesotan accent, which my family can enact at any moment. He also taught me to value the North Carolinian accent as being unique and worth studying. At any rate, this was an unconventional professor. We didn't have a textbook but we did have to share our own writing in class. Ugh, my heart sank the day I had to share mine. I was NOT looking forward to sharing it!
To make matters worse, he always suggested that we help our fellow writers after they shared their work. I'm sure NO one would even know where to begin. Well, I don't really remember too much about what I wrote or read, just that no one really said much of anything. No surprise there! My professor then said, as if cutting to the heart of the matter, "Are you a slow writer?" I took it as the same as a "slow reader." I stumbled for words, tried to deny it, and reluctantly asked for more clarification. After he asked a few more questions about my writing, I realized that my self-sabotaging style of writing was indeed "slow writing." Well, at least, he knows now. It was an awful class. Could we please hurry things along here!!? I'm ready to get outta here. I didn't want to go back, but I am not a quitter.
A few classes later, he wanted us to take a moment and write a positive note to a person in class that made a difference for them. Ok, that was never a problem. The problem was just in figuring out which novelist to choose. So, I wrote my note and turned it in. While we were working on another assignment, he sorted through the notes and proceeded to hand the notes to the recipients. He handed out a few and then brought a huge stack to me. What?!! This had to be a mistake? I'm the fraud; don't you remember? As I turned to my classmates, they were all smiling. Maybe they knew I needed some encouragement, but they were all my personal cheerleaders that day. I was so humbled and honored that they noticed me. The notes ranged from: she's very professional to she always has something nice to say. I wish I could say I became a writer that day. But it did make my day and week. I'm still learning how to be a writer. It did lead me to research more careers in writing. And, hey, I found out that there was such a thing as a Technical Writer (creating, editing, testing, or reorganizing technical manuals), and it matched my personality exactly (no sarcasm, honest)!
More recently, I watched the movie Julie & Julia (about a struggling writer starting a blog about Julia Child's cookbook). When Julie realizes that she may actually become a published writer, she says to her husband, "I'll finally be a writer." He calmly looks at her and says, "You are a writer." Those lines meant a lot to me.
I am a writer because I am writing, not whether or not I am published.
My main reason for starting this blog was to share tips that have helped me save money and sanity in my home. However, the added bonus is that I am discovering that I do have a love for composition. I guess it's just another one of those "Almost On Purpose" things.
Thanks for reading!
I found a seat in the middle row. I looked around the room. I felt like I didn't belong. In each chair, sat students that clearly stayed up too late thinking up the next NY Times best sellers. Then, there's me... notebooks all neatly stacked, all necessary writing utensils (pencil, pen, and highlighter) in a neat row, and a printed syllabus covered with a sticky-note or two with questions for the professor.
Could everyone tell I was a fake? I couldn't write. I have an amazingly, awesome family that has always encouraged me at everything I did. So, I knew these thoughts were not from my childhood. Looking back, it was my fear of failure. At any rate, I thought, "Should I drop this class to save myself the misery?" No, (I'm also a deeply stubborn girl) I won't let my crazy thoughts win.
The Lord knew what I needed because He sent a professor from Minnesota (that's were my Mom was born)... even went to the same college as my grandparents. He had a very clear Minnesotan accent, which my family can enact at any moment. He also taught me to value the North Carolinian accent as being unique and worth studying. At any rate, this was an unconventional professor. We didn't have a textbook but we did have to share our own writing in class. Ugh, my heart sank the day I had to share mine. I was NOT looking forward to sharing it!
To make matters worse, he always suggested that we help our fellow writers after they shared their work. I'm sure NO one would even know where to begin. Well, I don't really remember too much about what I wrote or read, just that no one really said much of anything. No surprise there! My professor then said, as if cutting to the heart of the matter, "Are you a slow writer?" I took it as the same as a "slow reader." I stumbled for words, tried to deny it, and reluctantly asked for more clarification. After he asked a few more questions about my writing, I realized that my self-sabotaging style of writing was indeed "slow writing." Well, at least, he knows now. It was an awful class. Could we please hurry things along here!!? I'm ready to get outta here. I didn't want to go back, but I am not a quitter.
A few classes later, he wanted us to take a moment and write a positive note to a person in class that made a difference for them. Ok, that was never a problem. The problem was just in figuring out which novelist to choose. So, I wrote my note and turned it in. While we were working on another assignment, he sorted through the notes and proceeded to hand the notes to the recipients. He handed out a few and then brought a huge stack to me. What?!! This had to be a mistake? I'm the fraud; don't you remember? As I turned to my classmates, they were all smiling. Maybe they knew I needed some encouragement, but they were all my personal cheerleaders that day. I was so humbled and honored that they noticed me. The notes ranged from: she's very professional to she always has something nice to say. I wish I could say I became a writer that day. But it did make my day and week. I'm still learning how to be a writer. It did lead me to research more careers in writing. And, hey, I found out that there was such a thing as a Technical Writer (creating, editing, testing, or reorganizing technical manuals), and it matched my personality exactly (no sarcasm, honest)!
More recently, I watched the movie Julie & Julia (about a struggling writer starting a blog about Julia Child's cookbook). When Julie realizes that she may actually become a published writer, she says to her husband, "I'll finally be a writer." He calmly looks at her and says, "You are a writer." Those lines meant a lot to me.
I am a writer because I am writing, not whether or not I am published.
My main reason for starting this blog was to share tips that have helped me save money and sanity in my home. However, the added bonus is that I am discovering that I do have a love for composition. I guess it's just another one of those "Almost On Purpose" things.
Thanks for reading!
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