Post 066.

i remember it perfectly, the assignment was to write a narrative piece. i was in the eighth grade and had advanced english taught by mrs. brennan and mrs. long. i credit them, and this project for instilling me with the love of writing. while most people in my class moaned over how difficult a two-page paper was, especially at the end of the year, i didn't see it as much. i had never written anything like this but since i enjoyed both my teachers i sat down and wrote. the first line opened with my description of the first time i saw davey havok walk on stage. something that could have easily been said in a paragraph for my classmates, turned into a page for me. before i knew it, i was on page 6 and before me i had the whole recollection of my second concert, vivid image after vivid image, and it wasn't written in an AP magazine, but instead said in my own words. i turned this "short" assignment in and to my surprise i had the longest and most thought out piece. brennan and long read through all 6 and a half pages and returned it to me. it was marked and grammar corrected in that familiar red ink and for the first time i read through each correction. at the end paper, was a note "best narrative we've read, keep writing" it stuck with me. i occasionally remember b&l and always want to go back and thank them for encouraging my now, love of journalism.
today especially reminded me of this because, as editor of my high school magazine, i had the duty of taking home our hard copy and editing through each poem, music review, narrative, and fiction piece. there were pieces written with near perfect grammar and others i had to tear through with my red pen, but as i read the content, it inspired me. there was a girl, a freshman i believe, whose story had more grammatical errors than i could count, but her story was simply great. i wanted to send her a note that said "keep writing" i have no control on which direction the magazine will go in after i graduate, but i want this girl to know what a wonderful thing writing is and even if writing is a dying career, it's still there, for her, for anyone. oh, and the joys that a red pen in hand can bring.