Literacy Narrative Final
28 August 2010
Once upon a time
Writing does not happen like it does in fiction, with inspirational background music, and a sudden appearance of a beautiful Greek muse. "Writing is easy. You only need to stare at a blank piece of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead.” (Gene Fowler). People do not sit for hours in front of a computer screen, fighting with a word-processer’s grammar, because it is fun. Writing can be either worse than the fires from Dante’s famous inferno or more lovely than true love, but, in either case, often a needed explosion of brain cells. For me, forming meaning from what started out as inscriptions on cave walls is more than creating art or a little need, but essential. It is not only what I do. Writing is my identity. Delving into my fresh idea for my novel this summer, I found a book that told me how to write a novel in a month. Even though I did not in fact write half a novel in a month, several things the author said still are a large part of my everyday writing experience. An exercise he suggested the reader do was to sit down with some background music (I chose Sun Dance: Summer Solstice), and write for fifteen minutes about something always wanted/wished for in our own life. What I did write is surprisingly personal to me, but I will say that even now reading it will still shock me; I had no clue that I had the feelings that I did bottled up inside. I remember the only conscious thought I had during the entire writing burst was “hmm… I guess I kinda would like…” Then I finished writing and my soul was peeking at me between the scrawls on the scrap paper I had decided to use for this useless looking exercise. Eighth grade was the year that I decided: I would write a novel, I would have it published, and I would be famous. I still have the handwritten original twenty or so pages I wrote five years ago. However, my novel has taken on a...
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