Am I right for writing?

Travelin’Oma has posed 10 questions, and we need to answer these questions. Then we’re looking at our answers and see where writing fits into our life.

1. If the power in my house went out, and I was stuck with candles and nothing to do but think, I would find the nearest book and begin reading.

2. If I’m writing and the phone rings, I answer it immediately. Well, maybe I would finish the sentence I was writing if I thought it was a particularly good sentence (which means I would likely answer the phone immediately).

3. If the person calling was a dear friend who wanted to get together for brunch, I’d drop everything and go be with my friend.

4. I’m at the restaurant with my friend and the idea for a fantastic novel pops in my head. I would hunt around for something to write it on – it would be a once in a lifetime occurrence!

5. and 6. I don’t really envision myself as a successful writer in a public forum. I just enjoy writing little things, and on my blog.

7. I figure the biggest benefit of becoming a writer might be to get to know other writers, and pick their brains about how they feel about writing.

8. I read incessantly. I read whenever I can and wherever I can. I am driven to read billboards, and the writing on cars and trucks as they pass me on the highway. I read the labels on the toilet paper in public bathrooms. You name it. If there are words, my mind is processing them.

9. If I have strong opinions about a political issue, I discuss it with my husband or son.

10. If I have an experience that I think would benefit others, I would write about it on my blog.

I love reading what others have written. I am not driven to write at all. I enjoy writing on my blog, and occasionally to express things I feel deeply to my friends.

For a while I was an English major in college. Of course I loved the literature part, but dreaded the writing. Perhaps it’s because of an experience I had in high school. I think it was my junior year in high school. I took a short story literature class from a man who turned out to be one of the best teachers I ever had, but my first writing experience in his class scarred me for a long time.

We read The Open Boat by Stephen Crane, then wrote an essay. I don’t remember the topic, but I remember clearly what happened about two days after we had all turned in our papers. The teacher said he wanted to talk about our writing. He had taken one of the papers turned in, made an overhead transparency out of it, and showed it to the entire class. He had cut out the name, so no one knew who wrote the paper. He then proceeded to criticize the entire paper, sentence by sentence, pointing out every mistake. There were a lot of mistakes. It was my paper. I remember staring at the paper projected on the screen, my face beet red, hoping no one in the class was looking at me. It was humiliating. He was very discreet, and really no other students knew who it was, but I thought I was going to die. After spending the class period criticizing my paper, he passed out everyone’s papers. I got mine back. He wrote something to the effect of the paper deserved an F, but he knew I’d worked too hard on it to give me the F. He gave me a chance to write it over again. I did. I took seriously what he had said, and got a much better grade. That man really helped me learn how to write. But he did not help me learn to love to write.

I’m happy appreciating the hard work of others and the results of their being driven to write. I may not be the perfect candidate to be a writer, but I am the perfect audience for a writer.