Today's post is brought to you by Juliemybird's Oh, The Early Work blogfest/giveaway. There will be prizes! And lots of funny stories, so go check it out.
|Also, dino love.|
Since I've already written about my first, psychotic, puppy-mutilating attempt at an epic story, I'm going to tell you about a different, but just as embarrassing, early writing experience.
There was a certain boy I pined for from third grade to eighth. He was, guys, SO cute. I can't describe him, or name names, because I'm still on speaking terms with his family and if he ever heard about this OHMYGOSHIWOULDDIE. Because I'm still twelve, apparently.
Nevertheless, I liked him a lot.
He inspired many a love-interest.
We actually almost became friends. We were within the same circle, capable of almost-not-awkward interaction, and--for one glorious month and a half--racing buddies when the bell rang to come in from recess. He was the one for me, I was positive.
And then, the worst thing possible happened: Junior High.
He was cute, and cuteness gets you popularity in junior high. I was not cute. I didn't get popularity.
Suddenly, my semi-friend-love couldn't bother himself to speak to me. No more racing. It was sad.
I channeled all my anguish and angst into a story about a girl who really liked a boy, and how they used to be best friends (slight exaggeration) but now he wouldn't even talk to her. She knew they were meant to be, and one day, he finally came to his senses, swept her off her feet, and they lived happily ever after.
I knew, I KNEW if he read it, he'd understand the pureness of my heart, that I wasn't just another spacey cheerleader after him for his rosy cheeks and curly dark hair. I saw to his soul.
So, I wrote him a casual note: "Hey, how's it going? How do you like seventh grade? What's your favorite class? Oh, by the way, I wrote a story and I was wondering if you would like to proofread it for me. Okay, let me know." I slipped it into his locker.
Lucky for me, he didn't answer. His avoidance of me became even more concentrated. And the bridge of our love was forever burned.
It's for the best, though. That story was totally lame.
What sort of gems did you write in your younger years? Link up at Julie's blog!