It was a fair question and one that has been asked of me several times lately as I continue to post stories on Facebook.
There are many folks, including myself, who wonder exactly where they come from and how they get put together.
I am never sure how to answer the question.
I don’t consider what I do as writing. I have a friend Doug, who in my opinion, has the real ability to write. He creates a story out of thin air!
He can stitch a tale out of nothing and put 100’s of pages together in a way that captivates the reader and pulls you from page to page through a world he created within his own imagination.
He creates characters, plots, suspense and eventually endings that flow from his imagination with ease.
To me that is writing!
The year is 1982, I am sitting in Mrs. Nickless’s class.
Mrs. Nickless or “Ma Nickless” to her students was my English teacher. She even signed all of our year books with simply “Ma”.
She was a wonderful and genuine human being who epitomized what a teacher should be. She cared about each and every one of her students and saw the potential in them all.
She cared and she made sure everyone knew it!
She was not, however, a push over by any means and held each of us accountable for our actions, be they good or bad!
On this day she was handing out the latest homework assignment after she had graded them the night before.
She walked slowly around the room laying each student’s graded paper on their desk as she passed by.
When she got to me, she walked slowly by depositing no paper on my desk.My mind raced as I consider the possibility that I had forgotten to turn it in. I knew I had done it and I thought for sure I handed it in, yet no paper was there before me.
As Ma Nickless gave us our marching orders for the next day the bell rang and as usual, we all stood up to leave.
Mr. Smith could you stay after a minute I need to talk with you?
Came a request from the front of the room.
Now I have heard those words many times and frankly it never ends well!
Yes Mrs. Nickless, I said reluctantly, and I sat back down.
Ma Nickless walked towards my desk with my essay in her hand.
My essay was about a football game we had recently played. A close game that was won within the last seconds by a failed extra point attempt that bounced off the uprights but landed in our favor. We beat our crosstown rivals the Andies 7-6!
She sat down in the desk in front of me and said Mr. Smith I want to talk about your essay.
She laid the essay on my desk and the number of red marks on the paper was almost as much as the words I had written.
Of course, in those days we had no computers, no tablets, we had to write every word by hand with a pen on paper. I know right !!
We had no spell check, no grammar check, no auto-correct to make sure what we meant to say is what ended up on the paper.
No, we had to do it the old fashion way and we had to “KNOW” what we were supposed to do or pay the price of a paper covered with the dreaded red pen marks indicating our failure.
“I’ve given you two grades she said as she started talking.
First, I have given you an “F”.
This was the worst case of sloppy writing I have ever seen. Spelling, grammar, punctuation, you have created a document that lacks almost everything I have been trying to teach you about the fundamentals of proper writing she explained.
Not in a scolding or condescending way but simply as a matter of fact.
Look at this paragraph, its one giant sentence with no punctuation until you get to the end.
I had no defense and gave none as everything she said was correct.
The paper had been written at the last minute. Thrown together to ensure something had been turned in thus avoiding a zero grade but clearly I had put little effort into the exercise.
After a moment of silence as though waiting for me to understand the gravity of the “F” she had given me, she began speaking again.
The second grade I gave you Mr. Smith is an A+.
I perked up with pride having no idea what I was proud of, but I knew an A was something I seldom saw and for whatever reason she gave it to me, I was taking it.
I gave you an “A” because you created and wrote a wonderful story. You had me on the edge of my seat as I read the story. The way you put the story together and the details you used created a story well worth reading.
I was somewhat stunned and yet proud of the accolades Ma Nickless had given me.
After a moment I said SOOOOOO what will my grade be? It was one assignment, but I have two grades.
Inside I was hoping she would average them out and I would skate along with a middle of the road grade. Something I was skilled at attaining.
I don’t know Mr. Smith, I haven’t figured that out yet, but I will let you know when I do.
You are dismissed, she said.
As I was walking out of class, she said “keep telling stories Mr. Smith and the rest will work itself out”.
If you could see the screen at the end of each story I write, you would see all the red squiggly lines indicating I have done many things wrong.
You would also see that not much has changed since 1982.
I still have no idea how to write or the fundamentals of good grammar, sentence structure or punctuation.
I don’t know what a past participle is or when a verb is a noun or when to use an adjective or not. And don’t get me started about conjunctive adverbs!! I mean come on!
I have no idea when to use a comma or just let the sentence roll. And what about : and ; ? Really what are those for? No idea!So, to answer the question everyone wants to know.
I never did learn how to write.
No, all I really know how to do...…………
Is tell a story.
Thanks Mrs. Nickless! You found the good in a student who handed you plenty of bad!
Bad you could have focused on and yet you chose to focus on the good hiding within as well!
Yes, Ma Nickless I’ll keep telling stories, but I am not so sure “it will all work out”! At least not the way you were hoping.
I still see LOTS of red with every attempt !
BY the way, it ended up being a “B”!
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