For me a story has always been in my mind. I used to write a lot more before I graduated high school. When I graduated my life became consumed with work. I worked as much as I could to save up for a car. Finally I had my car, and the following summer I started my first college class. That fall I started my first class involving writing: English Comp. 1. My love for writing had been neglected for a while, but it started to come back as I sat through the class. I remember liking the teacher but hating all the new rules I had to follow now. And then I realized that this was not the writing I was used to. Now I had only a handful of topics to choose from and on top of that I had to limit my writing to a specific amount of words, paragraphs, and pages. Writing was no longer my favorite thing, and the class really became a bore.
Two and a half months into my class the wreck happened. I didn't write anything except for bits and pieces in my journal to keep myself sane. The next spring I wrote a paper for cognitive therapy. I enjoyed it so much! (I wrote about the Leaning Tower of Pisa.) Terri, my therapist, was preparing me to return to a college class in the summer. She succeeded, and I was glad. I had to retake Comp. 1 but it was necessary after so much time because I did not remember as much as I thought I had from the first part of the class before. The class was hard, but dealing with memory problems and taking tests was very difficult for me. I managed to finish with an A!
That fall (2011) I took Comp. 2 and passed with my second A. This past spring I did not take any classes which focused on writing, but I did a lot of research papers for my health classes. The last month or so I have been feeling the urge to write again. I have had several ideas spinning around in my head. Little bits and pieces were sticking themselves together as I thought about each idea. Last night I was in bed trying to sleep, but having no success. My latest idea was floating around in my head. I was glad to have the idea, but I really didn't want to be thinking about it at the time. I needed sleep! I began to pray. I remember talking to God and saying: please help me with this. I don't know why I am getting these ideas all of a sudden, but if I am supposed to do something with them then show me what to do. A few minutes later I was in bed and suddenly pieces started to fall in place. I jumped up and ran to my desk. I pulled out my notebook and a pen. I wrote the time and started writing everything I was thinking as fast as I could before it could go away. An hour and a half later I looked up at the clock. It was almost 5am. I signed the time out and put my pen down. An hour and a half of writing and I only had a few things down that I had running through my head.
To start a new story is nothing new for me. I have piles of them in a box in the corner of my room; piles of stories, ideas, names, everything except a completed story. I am hoping that maybe this time I will finish something and it will be decent enough that I would be proud to have other people read it.
For right now I will continue to write these thoughts in my notebook, to create each character, and build the scene. I cannot wait to see where God brings this. I have never felt this way about a story before. This is a feeling I could definitely get used to... that is for sure!