- Joined
- Apr 7, 2009
- Messages
- 6,646
- Reaction score
- 1,195
Hi guys
I was in highschool. I did not like being there so I wrote stories instead of paying attention in class. I'll set this up with some background. Small town in 1960s. I had been living in a city as a runaway for quite awhile when my mother found me and sent me to live with my father. He was a school bus driver, and owned a car lot. He also was a city councilman.
I was working on a story while in studyhall. I had two or three hundred pages written in a notebook. Since the story was based on my experience as a runaway in a 'hippy commune' setting it was a story filled with sex, drugs, and did I say sex? Anyway I somehow left the notebook in studyhall. When I got home from school I was summoned to my father's den. Not a good thing. When I walked into the room my father was holding my manuscript. In a very low angry voice he informed me that my writing had been found and passed around to every teacher in my school, in the teacher's lounge. He sarcastically told me it was a most popular read and everyone including our minister had been talking about it. He gounded me from everything for six months. That is when I knew I could hold a reader's interest and began to see myself as a writer. How about you?
jane
I was in highschool. I did not like being there so I wrote stories instead of paying attention in class. I'll set this up with some background. Small town in 1960s. I had been living in a city as a runaway for quite awhile when my mother found me and sent me to live with my father. He was a school bus driver, and owned a car lot. He also was a city councilman.
I was working on a story while in studyhall. I had two or three hundred pages written in a notebook. Since the story was based on my experience as a runaway in a 'hippy commune' setting it was a story filled with sex, drugs, and did I say sex? Anyway I somehow left the notebook in studyhall. When I got home from school I was summoned to my father's den. Not a good thing. When I walked into the room my father was holding my manuscript. In a very low angry voice he informed me that my writing had been found and passed around to every teacher in my school, in the teacher's lounge. He sarcastically told me it was a most popular read and everyone including our minister had been talking about it. He gounded me from everything for six months. That is when I knew I could hold a reader's interest and began to see myself as a writer. How about you?
jane

