The first story that I remember writing was for Mrs. Smith, my sixth grade teacher. Mrs. Smith stood all of five feet tall with hair that looked like a giant cotton ball sitting on her head. She was a fearsome creature. The first day of school, she informed us that she was a witch and we'd best remember that if we wanted to survive her class. We all giggled but Mrs. Smith lived up to the reputation that she endowed herself with.
Towards the end of October our assignment was to write a story about Halloween. Mine involved ghosts and a grass skirt. Very funny stuff, if I do say so myself. As I finished reading my story out loud to the class, everyone started laughing and Mrs. Smith informed me that "I had quite an imagination." That was the nicest thing she said to me all school year.
And without knowing it, she made me believe that I could actually write, that I had an imagination that could spin stories and make people laugh. I wish I could say that I went right home and started writing, but I can't. It was nearly thirty more years before I actually started writing with an eye towards getting published. But I still credit Mrs. Smith and Halloween for planting the seed.
Tomorrow, in honor of Mrs. Smith and her encouragement, I'll post a ghost story to celebrate Halloween.
1 comment:
Your memories triggered my own: of having a substitute teacher, Elsie Park Gowan, in high school who not only wrote but was affiliated with the CBC television station writing scripts. She saw my flair for writing, encouraged me to keep reading and writing on topics I was comfortable with. My class was allowed to write a book report on any book we liked: mine was on The Hobbit. I recall she gave me an A+ combined with handwritten remarks in the margins. Here I am writing fantasy, and working on getting published.
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