I wrote my 1st story when I was 13 years old. I was in 8th grade and I had to make a collection of poems. The last poem in the collection was allowed to be a freestyle so I wrote a page long story. It was in the form of a poem, rhyming and everything. It was about a young girl (me) who was visited every night by a boy who always wore the color blue. This boy took me all over the world on wild adventures. There was so much more to the story that I couldn't put into the poem for fear of it being too long. These adventures in my story were so vivid, story-me could never tell in the morning whether they were real or just a dream. My teacher liked my story so much she asked if she could keep it for her future students to see, as a touchstone for how this project should be done. Flattered, I consented. But over the years I would miss it very much.
My 1st story, which I even wrote in blue ink, was closely based on my favorite story as a kid; Peter Pan. For my entire childhood my favorite color was always green. Maybe because Peter Pan wore green? But for some reason the boy in my story wore blue. I never associated the shift in color to this story at all but when I was 14 years old, everything in my life switched from green to blue. To this day my favorite color is blue. None of this color stuff matters at all, I just think it's funny. Looking back, The Boy In Blue represented everything I wanted out of life; Just one friend I could trust with all of the parts of my heart. Adventure beyond my imagination and seeing all of the world's wonders. A life so simple and beautifully fulfilling I'd have a hard time believing it weren't dream. All of that was my life's wish at 13 years old and I didn't know how else to say it but to put in into a small story.
During my sophomore year in college I was having a hard time figuring out my life. I was an Environmental Science major with a biology concentration. I had wanted to be a Zoologist one day but everyday I woke up in my small dorm room and couldn't make those shoes fit. Over my winter break I came home to Philly and visited my 8th grade teacher who still had the Boy In Blue sitting in her dusty filing cabinet. But he wasn't dusty at all. She had held on to him for 6 years for me. she'd been reading him to all of her students over the years. Just thinking about it, I'm still filled with more gratitude than I could ever express. When I returned to campus after winter break I immediately dropped all of my science classes and took on all English and anthropology courses. After that spring semester I transferred to Community college in Philly and pursued a certificate in creative writing. I can't honestly say I would have made that switch in life had I not been revisited by the Boy, who reminded me what I want out of life.
When I wrote my 1st story I felt in my bones for the very 1st time that I was good at something. I found something that made me feel like a giant; writing. In those 6 years without him I had lost myself. But I found myself again on that single page covered in blue ink when I went back for him that winter. If it weren't for the Boy In Blue I would be a scientist right now. Not that there's anything wrong with scientists, only I'd be lying to my heart for the rest of my life.
Writing matters because we build ourselves through our work. And when we lose ourselves, we find ourselves again in our own pages. Writing matters because sometimes writing is the only way we can say what we need to say. A story can tell you what I can't put into a sentence or a song or a gesture.
This was a beautiful campaign, NaNo people! Thanks for taking me back to where I began. And you're right...
Writing Matters.
