Apr
I have always been a writer. When I was little I knew I couldn’t draw and that thing I drew to illustrate my story wasn’t a dog, at least not to anyone’s eyes. But the description made the dog come to life. Granted I was probably six so it consisted of soft black fur with brown eyes and red collar but you get my drift. I relied on words to get my point across. And not spoken words, I was a shy and quiet child so I needed an outlet.
I had a diary when I was six, it was white plastic with crayons decorating the cover and it even had a tiny lock. I kept it hidden underneath my bed, with the key stored somewhere else (that’s another thing I was a private kid too). One day my dad decided to cut the tree down outside my window. I cried and got out my diary. I wrote a whole page about how I was sad for the tree and that it didn’t have the chance to grow up and be a big tree like the other one in our front yard. I don’t think my parents ever knew about that little episode of mine. My diary was my comfort, and as I got older I’d write anywhere, diaries, notebooks, single sheets of paper, anything.
When I was in high school I wrote a lot of poems, I’m sure most of them weren’t any good but it was a way to express myself and let the emotions out that I bottled up inside. I graduated with a degree in Journalism and I’m kind of sad I don’t use it on a daily basis.
Why am I telling you all of this? Well short story long, for the month of May I will be posting a writing exercise. I’m using the book The Write Brain Workbook by Bonnie Neubauer.
After having my little crisis today I decided to at least try to sharpen my writing skills. I bought this book a couple years ago and I used it a little, now it’s time to really get into it.
