God Touches: My thoughts and reflections

Chapter 1: "Creative Writing: Buzz Cuts, Bank Robbers, and the Big Chief"

In this chapter, Dan describes where "it all began..." for him. Just that first sentence alone got me to thinking about where it all began for me. The first grade. I remember writing my first story for the Young Author's Contest in our school. I pretty much plagerized a favorite story of mine about a rabbit, his family, and something about easter. I also remember spinning wild tails about my friend Danny (not the author of this book) getting himself into trouble in our class to my older sister each evening as we lay in bed. I'm not sure whether she believed my stories. She seemed to at the time.

By second grade, I was really developing as an author. I wrote my second Young Author's entry entitled "The Treasure of Being in the North Woods", a 42 page book complete with illustrated pictures on each page. This book was a little more original, as I actually aspired to be a trapper who lived in the north woods when I wrote this book (a factiod I later included in my autobiography in the third grade:). I did rip off complete sections from Jean Craighead George's "My Side of the Mountain", but I garnered a first place prize for this story. During these elementary years of my life, some of my best memories are of writing stories by flashlight in the walk-in closet with my brothers and sister, and reading our creations to one another. I enjoyed hearing their stories as much as I enjoyed writing my own.

In fifth grade, I wrote creative stories to read aloud in class during our creative writing time. My favorite part about this process was hearing the feedback of my classmates and feeling surprised when they laughed at a part that I didn't know was funny or elated when they laughed at the parts I intended to be funny.

In sixth grade, I completed my first novel entitled "Daniel". This story honestly was just a collection of my own personal fantasies. I wanted a dog. The boy in the story gets a dog. I wanted to run away and live in the mountains. The boy in the story runs away with his dog after his parents tragically divorce, and somehow manages to take a bus to the middle-of-no-where Montana and live in the mountains for a week. I was into tragedy. The boy's dog is killed in a battle with a grizzly bear saving his master's life. The boy is tragically maimed. Limping for the rest of my life, along with braces, and glasses were aspirations of mine.

Then came part II, an ill-fated second half to the book. I still think it might have taken first place in the contest, had it not been for part II. Part II was entitled "Twiggy and Me". Twiggy, apperently was the name I had chosen for a second dog, even though I still didn't have a first. This part of the novel, dealt with my fantasty of living in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. I wrote fantastic adventures of treehouses, neighborhood feuds, and a step-brother. I also wanted to be a boy. As a 12 year old tomboy, life looked so much easier and exciting as a boy. No more dresses, wrestling was okay, and boys could spit. That looked like fun. Even though I wanted to be a boy, I most definately was not one. As my sister will attest, I had quite a dating life between fourth and sixth grade. Thankfully, I have outgrown this phase:)

'Kay...back to writing. For several years I put my passion aside, finding life too busy. Around ninth grade, I picked it up again. This time I discovered poetry. As I dealt with a major depressive episode, poetry writing and reading became an outlet. It was also around this time that my good friends, The Nowikowski's, moved to Florida. I spent the next few years entertaining them with my letters. I'm sure they didn't know what hit them when the flood-gate of letters opened wide. At one point, they just confessed that they couldn't keep up, but would happily read. That was good enough for me. My goal was to make them laugh, and it was my great joy to learn that I occasionally succeeded.

My final writing episode in those pre-adult years was a semester of Creative Writing in High School. This was the first time I remember a teacher calling me a "Writer". He didn't even have to be told to know that this was my passion. The detail with which I wrote revealed the intentions of my soul.

Following High School, I attended my first choice college, DePauw Univeristy in Greencastle Indiana. My major: Creative Writing. I felt so lucky to go to that college. I felt like all my years of hard work were finally paying off. It was the tradgedy that I could not afford this university that sent my hopes and dreams spiraling. After many years of believing that I could not be a writer without some high priced degree, I have begun my craft once again over the past 5 years. You can see my effors at lisasroughdrafts.com.