You can't write. Where's the effort. My papers came back bleeding from all the red ink that my teacher's had used. I remember thinking why even try. I threw out all my stories that I had written, stored away all my poems, and tried to figure out what I was going to do when I grew up. I sometimes wonder if someone would have said, "we need to work on your grammar because you've got talent", if I would have stuck with my aspirations to be a writer. Oh well, what ifs don't work in the life of today.
Today, is where the story is - where the dream came alive - and no one is going to tell me otherwise. It did help that I actually have people wanting me to succeed this time. It's definitely nice to have a cheering section (even if it's just one person). Especially for those days when my past tries to hold me down, and the whispers that built my insecurity feel like hurricane strength winds pushing against me.
My cheering section started with a ten year old boy that was so excited about me writing a book that he imagined me famous before the idea ever settled into my head that maybe I could be a writer of something that anyone else would want to read. This boy, now twelve, read my first book in two days and with excitement said "you need to write more." My family and friends are doing their part to not let the strength of my dream falter in me.
I used to be told "You can't write", and now I'm told "This is great! I can't wait to read more!" I used to be worried that people were just saying that because they couldn't believe that I wrote it, but then I realized that they were being honest - I really could write a great story. And now, for the last two years, instead of writing just for me because I believe that no one will like it anyways, I wrote for everyone because I know that people enjoy a great story. For the last two years I have begun several stories. One is published, one is just about ready, another is close, and several more just need my undivided attention.
I can write great stories!
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