As I sit here reminiscing the days, weeks, months, and years that have led up to my becoming a published writer, my curiosity strikes and my lounging state becomes upright, firm, and strong. How did I become a writer in the first place? Who inspired me to become a writer?
Everyone will find something that they truly love within their lifetime, and likely, they will have found that talent, ability, or interest through the love and support of someone special— someone who encourages them, someone who stands out from a crowd and is proud to do so. Six names pop into my brain, names of people who meet these very characteristics, and there was no question—those were the individuals who sparked my interest in writing.
If you have yet to find that special person who encourages you to spread your wings and fly, perhaps take note of some of my experiences, and I hope that it can allow you to find that confidence and capability to allow you to meet your goals and stand tall.
My first real experience with writing came in the shadow of my great grandmother (aka Nonnie), who still continues to encourage me to spread my wings and write freely. She, herself, is a published poet. When you are ten-years-old, this makes you feel as if you are talking to a celebrity. Her language was so relaxing to the eyes and ears, and her thorough details painted vivid paintings, not only in my head but in my heart as well. Her poems made you feel hopeful and as if you are walking on air. I give her credit for my early years and years to come.
When I was in eighth grade, my great grandmother and her beloved husband passed. This was a really hard time for the entire family. In this time of melancholy, I found comfort in writing. I wrote a poem about the adoration that the family felt for him, how I felt for him. It was published in the obituaries in the newspaper. For a thirteen-year-old, I felt like I had to be something great. I made myself stand out from other kids my age, and I know I made great grandfather proud. However, I can’t take full credit for it because without my Nonnie, I would not have started writing in the first place. Not only did she teach me how to write, she taught me how to take a hard time in my life and turn it into greatness, something that all of us have the potential to do, even if we do not see it at first.
The second extraordinary individual who I believed encouraged my writing was my freshman year English teacher, Mrs. Bert. I was placed in her lower level English class, by decision of my eighth-grade English teacher, but Mrs. Bert saw something in me that that teacher never could see. What she saw was my potential. I believe that everyone has the potential to do great things, but that potential needs to be unlocked. To unlock that imprison potential, I had to become more confident. I was very introverted and shied away from everyone. She was able to pull that confidence out of me.
I remember that first day of English class so vividly. I had heard rumors flowing around the school that she was really scary, and I as a puny little freshman, I was mortified of what I was going to face. When we entered her class, she began teaching almost immediately. She was teaching us about characteristics and how they can be used in writing and how we perceive people. She would start by explaining characteristics of what people heard and then acting out how the person actually behaved, whether it matched the description or not.
For the one character, she began walking between two aisles of desks. She started pushing people’s books onto the floor and she had an aggressive look on her face. She got to my desk, but I didn’t have anything on it that she could push off. I thought it would end there, but then she grabbed the edge of the empty desk behind me and flipped it! I was in shock! I had never seen anything like that before. I jumped five feet out of my seat.
As I think back to this time, I find myself learning a lesson. Just because you hear stories about someone doesn’t make them true. Her lesson now covers two categories: English and life. I find myself now being very close to her. She cares deeply for people and wants them to further themselves. Thanks to her, I believe that I have accomplished that.
Four years after her class, I started my first college class. It was your general speech class. We were told to write about three people that inspired us and then talk about it in front of the class. Half way through over a hundred students, the professor stood up and told us that he was sick and tired of people using the same basic introduction, and from thereon out if anyone did the same introduction, they would have points deducted. Me being the perfectionist I am couldn’t allow that to happen. My first topic was Edgar Allen Poe. How could I introduce him in a spectacular way? I dug deep and found my answer.
As I walked up to set up my computer for the presentation, I picked up a stool and flipped it, just as my teacher had once done. I went over my time limit by three minutes, but the professor said he let it go because I did something that no one had ever done before. Thanks to Mrs. Bert, I got out of my comfort zone and made myself stand out among the masses.
Although this man is also an English teacher, I had Mr. Sponge's mass media class for two years. Although the class is not much of a writing course, we as students had to think creatively to develop exciting projects. In his class, we made music videos, movie trailers, audio projects, etc. One project that I did my senior year was our public service announcement project where we had to create a video that addressed a situation in a pro or con situation. He said that many PSA’s expressed emotion and had to grasp the attention of its viewers. He told us to find a way to make our video’s stand out from the rest. This man helped me look at things from a different perspective.
My topic was on emotional abuse, and I couldn’t think of any pro’s to something so mentally destructive. He told me to try and look at it from the perspective of someone being emotionally abused. I thought for days of how I could address this problem in a positive way. His advice helped me greatly. I wanted to show the class something inspirational and heart-wrenching. I made my video about an abused child becoming a parent and learning from their parent’s mistakes. Many of the videos show before mine were funny or entertaining, but they didn’t always have strong emotional appeal. No one spoke or laughed during mine. It was dead silent. After it was shown, Mr. Spong said to the class, “That’s what I’m looking for.” It felt amazing to hear that. I grabbed everyone’s attention, and everyone understood my message. In the end, Mr. Spong taught me to look at something from a variety of angles and to use my powers of emotional appeals for greatness.
Mrs. A, as we all called her, was my senior year English teacher. She taught me that experience is greater than just being taught the material. Almost all of her lessons were interactive or we would act as if we were in the time period or region where we were talking about. Whenever we would discuss a new country based on the book we were reading, she would bring in a dish from that culture. She would have us do group discussions and we would debate each other. She encouraged us to have different thoughts, a concept I wasn’t quite familiar with. I was always under the impression that, in schools, all of our opinions should be similar, but she opposed that. She believed that opposition created a better conversation. I love this. This is a lesson, similar to Mrs. Bert’s, that not only affects the progress and flow of the classroom but in life as well.
One of my favorite classes during my senior year was my creative writing class run by Mr. Washburn. What I loved about his class is that he would give us a theme, like a death poem, carpe diem, acrostic, etc., but he would encourage us to write it in our own style. I, personally, have a very dark and edgy style. I love darker subject matter, strong emotions, and vivid imagery. He allowed me to write about things that some might consider aggressive or raunchy, but he believed that allowing me to do so would make me a better writer because it was stuff that I cared about, the way that I felt. He allowed me to be something that some might find to be unusual or freakish, but he saw my abilities and encouraged them, instead of pushing them away.
The final person that impacted my writing for the better was Mr. Slayton. Similar to Mr. Spong, he was an English teacher; however, instead of English, I had him for senior project. When I wasn’t organizing documents or prepping his basketball team’s equipment, I took an interest in watching him. His enthusiasm was the most incredible a person could be around. He reminds me of the teacher from
He was the kind of person that you could hear two hallways away. He was always standing on a chair or on a desk, projecting his thoughts and feelings about a book to his students. His enthusiasm is something that all people should experience. Best of all… it was genuine. He was genuinely excited to teach, and as a writer AND an education major, this is something that I take pride in.
If it wasn’t for these individuals, I would not be writing this article today. These six people brought out the ability and strength that I once kept hidden, explode and take flight. I am forever grateful to them and all that they have taught me, and I genuinely hope that everyone has one person in their life that can make them feel the same. To those who are not sure what their abilities are or how to unlock their full potential, dig deep and find inspiration from those special people in your life, tell them what they mean to you, show them what they mean to you, and above all, do what makes you happy.
