Good question! But I’m going to go a step deeper with this. As a little girl, I hated reading. It wasn’t until my Dad pissed me off that I decided I could read, somewhere around 2nd grade. Seriously, though. He pissed me off when I told him I could read a book by telling me I wasn’t reading it, I had memorized it. He was right. So the next day I read it. Then I read another. And another. I went from the easy “baby” books to chapter books in a week. Yes, literally one week.
In California, in the 80’s, they had yearly CAT tests. They weren’t necessary for passing a grade, just a tool to show teachers where the children were at in their development. In first grade I had a first grade reading score. Second grade had me at a seventh grade score. Third grade, though, had me at college level reading comprehension. Most of my other scores were just as high.
I adored reading. I didn’t read books, I devoured them. For the longest time my obsession was Sweet Valley High and Babysitters Club, but those faded in eighth grade. I found Anne McCaffrey and Stephen King. I found Shakespeare and Poe. I looked at reading lists for colleges and searched for the books in libraries. I devoured all I could in an endless hunger. Nothing was enough. I wanted more and more.
Now, I won’t go into all the troubles and struggles I went through with my classes. That’s another story for another day. But eleventh grade found me in advanced English and contemporary literature classes. Yes, two English credit classes. (I adored literature!) I also took a second semester speech class that year, since contemporary lit was only a semester long. It was the teacher of my advanced English that challenged me: write three poems and turn them into her for extra credit. So I went home and laid down in bed. The window was right beside my bed, and I had the curtains open with only a small lamp lit on the opposite side of the room. I stared out that window for a good hour before I realized I was scribbling away on my paper.
I wrote seven poems that night. It took me a couple days, but I finally picked out the best three and turned them in. But my teacher tricked me. She was also the head of the creative writing classes and club. It was her job to help compile all then entries for the annual creative writing book. The entries were voted on by the creative writing club. Not only did two of my three poems make the cut, but I was voted 4th and 5th best poems. I was one spot away from heading to the state wide competition with my poems. (The 1st-3rd place poems were by kids in the club.) In a student body larger than the town I’m living in now, that’s saying something.
The spark took hold and I kept writing poems. The poems evolved into role play after my divorce from my first husband. From there its history. I stopped writing during both of my marriages - the writing somehow offended them - something I’ll never do again.
I hope that answers your question fully!
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