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Created on: May 21, 2007 Last Updated: January 10, 2010
Ever since I can remember I've always been in love with words. I like the way certain words sound, the way some words have more than one meaning or even the interesting things you can do with words whether on paper or by simply speaking.
My very first foray into the auctorial arts began at the age of ten. My one page epic was based on a movie I had seen called INVASION OF THE SAUCER MEN which concerned an invasion of earth by bugeyed,bulbous headed space aliens. All I did was simply change the alien to devils and my love of writing was off and running from that point on. I wrote everything from ten page movie scripts, poems, songs(some good,others fair to bursting with crappiness)and I even attempted to write a novel at the ripe old age of seventeen.Upon reading my effort years later, I was so aghast at it's awfulness that I promptly deposited my so called novel into the trash to insure that no one else would ever read it either. Trust me, it was that bad.
During my high school years my English teacher, Sister Joan, encouraged my writing by reading and then critiquing my short stories. My admiration for her was such that whenever she would compliment my latest endeavor, I felt as if I had been knighted. One of my wishes is that one day I can contact Sister Joan to let her know what a positive influence she was in my life.
Like every other writer, there comes that day when you get an epiphany that tells you perhaps God put you on this earth to write. My personal epiphany came to me as a result of a biology report I had to do. Okay, I know what some of you are thinking as you scratch your heads in bewilderment," What does a biology report have to do with him realizing his desire to become a writer?" Well, here goes: I hated biology. It was a subject I considered to be both dreary and boring. I knew that after I graduated high school that I would never in a million years apply any of the information in this class to my every day life. The only reason I took the course in the first place was to fulfill my college prep course requirements. Otherwise, I would have taken a more exciting course such as pottery making or glass blowing.
Even an event as the frog dissection (much anticipated by the other students, but not by me)could get me excited about biology. In fact, I found the entire procedure to be so distasteful that I made it a point to deliberately miss the school bus that morning. The way I looked at it was, the poor little bugger never gave me as much as
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