Watch me as I shudder *shudders*

  Hello again my beautifuls!

  Ok, so today's post is about something I stumbled upon when looking through random files in my computer, and I found *shudders* an old story. All I have to say about that is... oh my goodness gracious. I wrote it when I was ten. The sad thing is, I remember writing the story, I remember thinking to myself, this is such good writing for my age, I thought I was so deep and emotional.

  Now as I read through this monstrosity I realize how untrue this was. I was terrible (proof that practice makes perfect.) It was like the awkward moment when you see the Wizard of Oz put on by a bunch of fourth graders and Dorothy clicks her toes instead of her heels... Except in my case I wasn't the one watching.... I was the main character..

  Off topic! This is no the time to discuss what a stupid fourth grader I was. Anyways...

  I want to give you a slight teaser in to this extremely "dramatic" story that I wrote when I was ten years old...

My head hurt a little so I decided I would stay in bed. My mom brought me breakfeast in bed, my dad had gone to work. She never questioned why I came home early from the sleep over that night. I was thankful for that. The day dragged on and everything bored me. I tried reading, no help, I tried going to sleep. That definetly didn’t work even though I was exhausted. Finally night came and I  decided I would have to go to sleep sooner or later. I looked at my clock, it said ten thirty. I closed my eyes but as soon as they dropped the same cold but warm feeling that I had neer the gravel road appeared. I opened my eyes and sitting there on my bed was Derek. I gasped. “Don’t be afraid” he whispered. I wasn’t, I was delighted. “I’m sorry for disappering on you back there.” “No, no that’s fine” I lied. “Do you know who I am” he asked me. To think about I really didn’t, but I knew who he was, I could see through him. It’s like from the moment I saw him in my dream he stunned me. Then I suddenly knew everything about him, he was sweet kind, loving, and brave. Just by one look. “No, but I do know how you are” I stated. He laughed. “So do I” he whispered. “ But, you don’t know who I am” and just like that he disappered right before my eyes. “I’m a ghost”. I heard somebody say from no where. “We barely know anything about eachother, yet I know everything abou you, and I love it” went nothing. “I know it sounds complicated, but I love you” he suddenly appeared again and his eyes looked like they were full of sorrow. “I’ve been watching you your whole life, I know who you are I know what you are, and I feel like I need to protect you” derek said so silently. “What are you really?” I questioned him. “My name is Derek Edwards. I was born in 1917 and died in 1933. I’m sixteen and I live in your house.This news surprised me, but I didn’t care he was here with me.

  Like I said, oh my goodness gracious! This is the most terrible piece of writing my eyes have ever beheld! Notice how nothing is indented, the first of many flaws...

  Just from this example you can see how much of a terrible writer I was back then.

  Now, let's fast forward a couple of years. I am twelve, and I think, maybe I could start  actually writing a book, maybe it won't be so bad... And so my first novel exploded in my brain! It was titled A Room For Lost Souls. Oh, how I loved that book, I worked on it hours upon hours upon hours. My writing had improved slightly, but not by much. Here is an excerpt from that book...

   “Kate?” I asked her softly. She looked to me her face ashen.

  “Where are we?” Kate didn’t answer but a different voice echoed off in the distance.

  “I’ll tell you where you are” the voice said. It was a woman’s voice; it rang high and confident in the pearl like room. The voice was sweet, but mysterious and misty at the same time.

  “You’re in a room for lost souls” the voice stated. Suddenly a girl about eighteen was standing in front of us. She had wavy red hair and big brown eyes that stared at us, she looked tough but at the same time she looked nice.

  “Where are we?” Kate asked the girl again puzzled.

  “I said you’re in a room for lost souls” the girl stated a little harsher.  A room for lost souls, what did that mean? The girl must have understood our confused faces because she continued.

  “Basically, your dead” she stated with no emotion in her voice, and no sympathy. Dead, but that couldn’t be true. The word dead rang in my ears. Death was something that I expected to come when I was much older. I didn’t expect for someone to come along and murder me. I felt a sinking sensation enter me. I couldn’t breathe; it felt as if somebody had just punched me straight in the stomach. I couldn’t be dead. My life couldn’t just be over like that. My face fell to the white floor and I tried to hold back tears. Kate’s face was also staring at the bottom cloud we were standing on. She looked like she did the time I found her in my room crying after the water slide accident, torn apart, though she wasn’t crying her face was sunken. Her eyes were squinted shut, she held her hands behind her back trying to look brave and her mouth was pressed in a thin straight line. 

  As you can see; better. Notice there's no, I've been stalking you my entire life, oh and by the way, I'm in love with you, scenario. So, that's got to be and improvement for something!

  But alas, more years rolled by, and I grew, my writing grew, and I looked at this and (appropriate play on words for title) shuddered. I moved on to bigger and better fish, leaving lost souls unfinished, and now fourteen, I began Manipulated. Everything just seemed to flow naturally with that book, I loved it so much, still do, and I feel that novel shows my strongest writing yet, I've grown... here is an excerpt. 

 

  Just like that they were on me.

  Thrashers.

  Pain hit, an intense blinding pain. I keeled over from the impact and crashed to the ground in a heap, the pain even more intense as the dirt smeared my bloody back.

  I had never felt anything so torturous. It was like being lashed with fire, my flesh burning on the surface, and then the fire doubled as the thrashers looped around my arms and legs and then tightened.

  The hidden Chasers stepped out of the mist then. My eyes were blurred with tears and my vision was foggy from the night spent having my brains battered against a cliff, but I could see their boots shuffling towards me, crunching the ground underneath them. I wanted to scream, but when I opened my mouth I could feel the thrashers tearing in to my skin, deeper and deeper.

  “Don’t try struggling; it’ll just increase the pain.”

  You see? Not perfect, but pretty good, at least I think.

  So, the point of this blog post you may ask? Well, it's to show how much we grow. We start out as cheesy fifth graders who want to write stories about stalker ghosts! And then we evolve, we transform, and most importantly, we learn. We learn from our mistakes, what to do better next time and what to add and what no to.

  You may be saying to yourself, I want to be the best writer I can be! And that's great, I do to, but you don't have to be the best writer you can be, now. I mean, if you were a superfantabulous writer right now and you were so good you could never get any better, what would that say about you when your thirty and your writing the same old stuff.

  So, what I'm trying to say is that it's OK to inexperienced, I mean, just look at me when I was ten, and look at me now, four years later! I'm a completely different writer. Though I still have a lot of learning to do, and I probably won't become a best selling author before I leave high school, I've improved, and that's something significant.

  Keep faith in your writing, you'll get there someday!