ON READING AND WRITING
“’Twas the night before
Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.”
To many young children, along with these words came the anticipation of the fun
and excitement of Christmas Day -- presents, family, and friends. But for me,
hearing my mother read the story aloud on Christmas Eve as the minutes ticked
towards midnight was just as exciting as the Christmas Day celebrations.
It was a tradition in our house, this Christmas Eve bedtime classic. After
opening a few presents on Christmas Eve, I would change into my pajamas and jump
into bed, anxiously waiting for Mom to walk in, “The Night Before Christmas,”
tucked under her arm. I’d sit up, using pillows to prop my head, and she would
sit on the edge of my white-blanketed bed, feet on the floor, book in her lap.
Slowly and dramatically, she’d begin the story. For the next twenty minutes, I
was mesmerized, visualizing Santa and his reindeer on their yearly mission.
I believe it was this annual tradition that incited a spark in me-- a love of
reading. As I grew older, I amazed friends, family, and even baby-sitters with
my reading ability.
Our hometown is far too tiny for a real mall, but when I was a young child we
had the next best thing -- a strip mall that was partially enclosed. They called
it a “mini mall.” My favorite store in the mini mall was Book Haven. My mom and
dad took me shopping with them often, and I never minded as long as we made a
stop at the bookstore. While they shopped, I would grab a book, sit in the
corner, and read (today, I would probably get in trouble for this). Usually, I
chose books from the Bernstein Bear series; they were a favorite at the time. By
the time my parents were done shopping, I would have finished the book.
Years passed, and my tastes began to change. I soon discovered that my older
sister was willing to let me borrow her books, as long as I promised to return
them and did an occasional favor for her. She has six years on me, so she
already knew how to bargain. From her shelves, I read almost the entire Sweet
Valley series. I read all the Little House books. For a while I devoured R.L.
Stine’s works. But the time came when I outgrew these books, as well. Instead of
invading my sister’s bookshelves, I turned my attention to my mother’s. I
discovered medical thrillers and horror stories, which were exciting and written
in a manner that was more challenging, and that I enjoy still today.
Stephen King, Robin Cook, Dean Koontz. Famous authors who have sold millions of
books. So, obviously, I’m not the only one who finds them “magical”. All three
of these authors are wizards at plot and character cultivation. Stephen King, in
particular, amazes me. I love to read his works because the characters are so
real and developed. I know so much about them that it almost feels as if I
know
them
personally. That’s truly a gift, to use words to construct a new human being.
When I’m reading one of his books, I literally can not put it down. I’ll
sacrifice hours of sleep just to add a few more chapters to my imagination.
This happened with what I consider to be one of my favorite books ever,
IT.
Last summer, I
decided to read this, because despite my love for Stephen King, I had just never
taken the time to read the massive book. I’d also never seen the movie, which
shocked nearly everyone I told. “It’s the scariest movie I’ve ever seen!” and
“Ever since I saw that movie I’ve been afraid of clowns!” were two common
phrases they used to describe it. So, me being the horror aficionado that I am,
resolved to read the book first, then see the movie.
I grabbed my mother’s copy of
IT
and settled down in our living room one evening, a
bit apprehensive because of the sheer thickness of the book. But my
apprehensions were gone within a matter of minutes as the book pulled me in. I
couldn’t put it down, even if I
wanted
to! At work, I would look forward to coming home,
just so I could read more. I stopped watching TV for a week, because I decided
that I’d rather curl up with my book. When I reached the end of the book, I felt
a little heartbroken because there was no more. Over a thousand pages had been
flipped by my sturdy, nail-bitten fingers, but it didn’t feel like nearly enough
to satisfy my craving.
With the written words fresh in my mind, I elected to watch the movie. I hopped
in my black Sunfire and drove up the interstate to Movie Warehouse, picked it
out, brought it home, and popped it in. I had such high expectations -- the
book, honestly, truly scared me, and that was a rare occurrence. Scary books
usually really aren’t all that scary. They don’t make you paranoid, hiding under
the covers; they don’t give you the urge to check under the bed and in the
closet before you turn out the lights. IT did. So if the book managed to give me
chills, the movie
had
to be even better, right?
Wrong. Two tapes, four hours, and one extra-large soda later, I was left
deflated and disappointed. The movie -- the visuals and characters based on
King’s words, did not, and could not, live up to the visuals and characters that
played around in my mind. Everyone’s interpretations are different, and
obviously the director and I weren’t even on the same page. That incident was
probably the first time that I realized there was some actual truth to the old
adage, “The pen is mightier than the sword.” One author and his pen entertained
me far more than a cast of actors, a set, and a Hollywood budget.
But good writers aren’t always book authors. I’ve always told people that the
lyrics of a song are what draws me in first -- not the melody or the music from
the other instruments. Every non-instrumental song has to have someone who
penned the lyrics, and so many of these writers are magical to me as well.
Hearing a musician belt out words that describe you so well that you could have
written them
yourself
is an often unsettling, but remarkable feeling.
Often lyrics are written in fragments, or use improper grammar, or sometimes
they appear to not even make sense at first glance, but when you hear them, it’s
perfection.
So.... we see why I like to read and listen to music, but why do I write? It’s a
good question. I write to alleviate boredom, I write to relax or release
tension, I write to entertain others, and I write because it’s the best way I
express myself. I’m not a fantastic orator. I can’t take a baseball bat or
soccer ball and astonish a crowd of fans with it. If you handed me a brush and
paint, chances are that I would spill the paint all over your new jeans and drop
the brush on the floor. I used to play piano, but being away from home, and
thus, my instrument, has not left me a lot of options. The written word has
always fascinated me, so I thought I’d give it a try. I learned that I liked it,
and a new writer was born.
Writing is a marvelous thing. The history of our country, the myths of Greece,
the statistics from last night’s basketball game are all in writing, waiting to
be accessed by anyone lucky enough to know how to read. In writing, there are no
racial boundaries, no dialects to mock, and no class differences. There are only
universal words. It’s the foundation of nearly everything. A TV show must first
be written. A new building must first have a proposal. A class must have texts
to teach from.
So, perhaps, a better question would be, “Why
wouldn’t
you write?”
Writing is most effective when it’s done well. That’s where this class --
Creative Writing -- comes in. Throughout my scholastic career I’ve written more
research and term papers than I can count. I consider myself to be fairly good
at this type of writing, after all, practice makes perfect. But my educational
experience with creative writing is almost null. I’ve never really been required
to do it, or been taught proper technique (if there
is
any kind of proper
technique). I write stories on my own, and sometimes get frustrated when they
branch off in directions I didn’t intend. In other words, I have a tendency to
ramble, or lose track of my original point. Getting off on a tangent, as my
mother, a high school math teacher, would say. I need discipline and direction,
support and fresh ideas, practice and feedback. I’m hoping this class will
provide me with some of that.