This time last year on Christmas I posted a short, little rambling thing about socks and computers. I think. The year before I wrote a "heartwarming" story about a girl whose boyfriend dies in a war or something. I don't know. My fourteen-year-old mind summed that up as a perfect Christmas sob story. I mean, what's not to love/cry over?
But anyway. I won't get into that.
Christmas has crept up on me much the same this year. With a quiet awareness that gets louder and louder as the day approaches. Something about Christmas in and of itself is so exciting, and it's not the prospect of presents that makes it so. I'm looking more forward to giving gifts than I am to opening them (although, let's be fair, both is a lot of fun). I love the Christmas traditions, and the tree, and the beauty of the season. I love the uniting of families. And I love that we actually have something to look forward to after Christmas, because nothing's worse than having Christmas and then--bam--ya got nothin' going on until the new year. Wahhh.
Even with all the stuff that's still partially going on with the site, I can't bring myself to be one of those people that boycotts it. This is my writing home. I don't mind adhering to a few new rules, even if I make my disagreement quite clear. I don't know, I suppose I'm just thankful for this place. And all of its writers. And all of its writing.
When things change, and people grow up, and others grow away, one thing has always been a constant in my life, and that's writing. Music, too, but writing is my foundation in that. Since I was little and decided to write a book in my journal. I can faintly remember making my Mom and Dad write out the first two pages while I dictated. Then I took it over. It was confusing. The illustrations were borderline disturbing. Heh.
Then fourth grade came, and I had a great teacher who really opened up the world of writing to me. I wrote so many things that year, and the feedback was good. I have the folder of all the stuff upstairs. Sometimes I like to flip through it, although the constant use of cliches I learned from those horrible grade-school books make me cringe a bit.
In sixth grade we turned our focus to ISTEP. I wrote my essays from prompts and fiction and occasionally my stuff even got put under the projector for the class to read. Never mind the fact that people weren't so thrilled with the Teachers Pet. I was proud. I loved writing. Then I met Kassady, and I found this site.
I know that's one of those cliches I had talked about using earlier. I can't help it, though. It's true. I'd never had a site like this before, and it was so exciting to get my writing out there. Oh, and when I got a comment. Yikes. It was like winning the lottery.
It's evolved throughout the years, my writing and the members on this site. I asked to be a monthly after one year and got told not yet--things were getting cleaned up. So I waited. I worked on my writing. And then I asked--and got told yes.
It was so exciting. And the sample I sent in wasn't even good, which is kind of hilarious. I can do a lot better now. It was about an old woman and her husband and it never got past chapter one.
Anyway, the moral is, this site has helped me so much. And it's all because of the people. So, no matter what, this Christmas I find myself thankful for it in addition to other things. And I'm really looking forward to next year. Who knows where my writing will be? Maybe I'll even have something published! If I, you know, finish a book.
Usually you have to do that first. Just so you know.