A story about a girl who hated to write.

It always makes me feel a bit funny when someone complements me on my writing.

When I was in high school, I took pride in being a girl who loved math and art, but hated writing. I would seriously wait until the very last minute to write a paper, and only then doing it for fear that I would be grounded for life and unable to watch television or talk on the phone ever again.

When I would hand a rough draft of a paper over to my mom for feedback, I would feel the defensiveness bubbling up and taking residence in my body. When she would call me downstairs to review, I could feel my entire body tense up. It was the slowest and most painful walk I ever took.

And then she’d lay the feedback on me.

This is a run on sentence.

Seriously, Emily. What is this?!

What are you even trying to say here?

Wrong word.

Spelling mistake.

Go back and do it again. And this time, TRY.

I would burst into tears and run back upstairs, stomping my feet, mumbling profanities under my breath, and slamming my door in a huff. And the, reluctantly, I’d try to do what she said. We would do this dance all night long, as it usually took 3 or 4 tries to get to the point where it was passable.

By senior year, I began referring to my mom as The Paper Nazi (I blame Seinfeld for that one).

When I left for college, I still sent my papers home to be looked over. Fortunately, the critiques became easier and I got more adept at writing. By the time I went off to grad school, writing stopped being a source of stress. Which is a good thing, since I had to write 5 20-page research papers a semester.

As an adult, things have changed.

I still love art, but my love for math has been replaced with a love for writing. I find great comfort in sitting down to pen a post. Journaling helps me come back into myself and figure things out. And newsletters are some of my favorite things to write. I even VOLUNTARILY took on a 100 Days of Blogging challenge to post (write) something for 100 days in a row.

So that story of hating to write — the one that was filled with red lines and dread — has a new ending. Or, at the very least, a new plot line to play around with.

I’m curious: how did you feel about writing as a kid, and how do you feel about it now? Has anything changed?

Image source: Shady Side Academy (and is of yours truly)

More about Emily Levenson

Emily Levenson is a therapist turned holistic health coach, podcaster, meditation encourager, and seeker of everyday magic. Emily recently kicked off her third #The100DayProject, focusing her efforts on daily meditation.

2 thoughts on “A story about a girl who hated to write.

  1. Dawn Patton

    I knew I was going to be a writer when I was in 4th grade. I always loved it, and I think I’m pretty good at it. 😉

    The story about you and your mom and writing homework reminds me of my dad and me and math homework. "This is easy!" he would bark at me. But it wasn’t for me. Math, regardless of species — algebra, geometry, trig, calculus — was the hardest class for me. But writing. Writing I understood.

    Thanks for sharing this story. It’s so interesting to learn about people’s younger selves!

    Reply

    1. Emily Levenson

      So interesting! Looking back, I’m not sure how that was the case since I rely so heavily on calculators and love crossword puzzles and writing.

      I guess I just needed a little (okay, a lot) help to get there. 😉

      Reply

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