Okay everyone, sorry I didn’t update yesterday, it was very hectic with meeting with my advisor and class, ect. So far my word count is going strong…5,035 words  so I’ve done my daily word goal. But quicker than I anticipated the self-doubt is here and it had a battering ram ready to break through my defenses.

This is because last night I had my evening Intermediate composition class, it’s like an independent lab where we write a paper and we look over each others, work shop together to see what we can improve. And for the past two term papers due I have been given the same complaint about my writing that I received last night.

The topic was to write 1200 words about some object that’s very dear to you. I thought long and hard about it and the one thing that means the most to me is something that I keep close to my heart everyday: the pentacle that my mom purchased for me at our first Renaissance Faire.

My Comp teachers goes “Sam, this draft has a lot of potential. You are a terrific writer.”

Me: *Blushes* Thank you, sir.

Teacher: “But I feel like you’re reporting your story to me, not telling your story. It just seems to drudge on without hearing your voice come through”.

Being a writer, I’m use to criticism. But telling a person who wants  to write novels that she’s not a good story-teller is like slicing her wrists open and squeezing lemon juice into the seeping wounds (hey I’m a writer!)

So instead of being weepy, I printed out the first four chapters (please forgive me trees!) and had my mom take a red pen to them! The pages were so red and wet with ink that Dexter would’ve been proud.

I thought really hard on how my writing could’ve been so lacking lately. I was praised for my imaginative  writing abilities in high school, even yelled at because my English assignments were over ten pages when they were suppose to be a page an a half.

I came to the conclusion that dedicating my time to my school’s newspaper, mounting research papers for school and neglecting my creative writing had affected me. Though it hurts, I think I’m going to take a semester break from reporting and get in touch with my old kooky-writing self again.