I did not want to be a journalist, but I figured it was the closest thing available to assist my writing ambitions. The dream of writing my own series of mysteries, the first terribly awful one written in the seventh grade, was squashed. Squashed by one teacher, in one day, in one class and by one cutting remark. I left that class filled with bitterness and a disdain for that instructor. High school journalism was only the mecca for the select chosen few of her classes. She appeared to be more intent on winning awards in those final years before her retirement , overlooking students who truly intended to write because they have a passion for words and not just to have an award on a college application.
I was convinced that if this one person thought so harshly of my work at age 15, I was then doomed for life. I avoided writing for many years. This blog is the first writing I have ever shown an audience of more than one best friend. So what makes finding this blog hop so special? I am preparing to show the first chapter of my current work in progress to my writing group this week. One chapter has consumed all of my free time for 4 days and I am sure it will right up until the reading on Saturday morning.
