I was eight when I wrote my first story Hotdog. It involved a little boy on his grandparents farm with a variety of farm animals all bickering and vying for the boys attention. It was the first time I took my make believe story in my mind and brought it to life on paper. My mom helped me type it up and “published” it on fancy Christmas background paper.

In high school I had an amazing creative writing teacher who gave us a prompt where we wrote about conversing with a loved one who’d passed away. I wrote about about my mom and a typical conversation we would have had if she was still alive. It helped me to write down and create fun banter between the both of us. It alleviated the feeling a bit that I missed out on getting to have those conversations with her.

Overall I use writing to heal my emotional wounds and get my over active imagination out of my head on paper to keep my sanity. I was the kid that would open the glass screen door to let my Pokémon inside my house and talk out loud with them. I now write since talking to imaginary creatures isn’t socially acceptable.

You feel yourself getting smaller as the six walls around you move in. No one else notices that your struggling as they go about their day. You wonder why no one comes up to you to try and help. Can’t they see you struggling? You feel the pressure building all around you. Your internal body temperature goes up while a bead of sweat sweeps down your forehead. Your knees come closer to your chest as the walls creep in and you feel your chest tighten. You take your last breath as you hear a voice. They want to know if you are ignoring them since you haven’t talked to them recently. You take a deep inhale and look around. The only six walls closing in on you are your own imaginary walls. But you’re not a mime, you can choose to break free.

When I was younger, I would only write what I knew about myself. I thought that because I am white, I could only write from that perspective for humans in my stories.

Later on, I became friends with others from varying countries, cultures, and socioeconomic backgrounds. It inspired me. I took the time to ask them questions about their upbringings and how it differed from mine. When I write, I spend the time researching more in detail about a character's culture to try to avoid falling into stereotypes. Having someone from that race or culture read that character can help to determine if the character sounds authentic. This is what I plan to do with one story I'm writing.

Glistening daisy petals

Each basking in the sun

A wind gust tugs the pollen

Sending it to a playground

The particles tickle the girls nostrils

And the air embraces the first sneeze of the season

Is this it? Well, Allow me to introduce myself…Mr. Right

I know you are the monster under my bed

I’ve wondered if the miracle would occur

and you would finally appear before me

I have evidence that you have been visiting with Sister Golden Hair

Her long blonde hairs have been getting stuck in my vacuum,

Under the depths of my bed

I found the hole to your side of the world

You made a classic mistake Mr. Right

Thinking my soccer ball could cover it, but now it’s soccer season.

My soccer ball is my baby in the way Sister Golden Hair is your lovely lady

I can tell you love her

Every night at 3 am I can hear you trying to whisper to each other

Both of you can’t whisper by the way,

sometimes making bang bang noises when you enter and leave the hole

Telling Sister Golden Hair to accept a piece of my heart,

Which creeps me out since I don’t know if that is a figure of speech, or if your really want to feast on my heart

You chat about running away to Mexico together

Leaving all your worries and scare quotas behind

You both dream of doing a night drive on the Mexican coast,

The colors of blue, gray, and silver swirling in the air

Sister Golden Hair feels terrible of the thought of leaving everyone behind,

But you’re not sorry, all you ask her is to let me love you

And as long as you follow me, everything will be fine

But what about the Money Honey? she retorts

You tell her you will find a way to get the money.

So, Mr. Right I am putting all my $40 in allowance money under my bed

Please take the money and jump in your car, play a party song (The walk of shame).

And start a new life together.

But wait…before you go.

I remember a conversation you had about your dreadful supervisor Clyde.

The one you called a Punkb*Tch many times.

Who thinks everyone is out to get him,

The Whoa Oh! (Me vs. Everyone) guy who really sticks.

Right when you quit, tell him Donna thinks you suck and pour a Slushie on his head

I hope you two love birds have a good life together.

Also, advise Sister Golden Hair to shorten her name to Golden Hair when you get to Mexico.

Otherwise people on this side of the hole will think you are dating your sister.

Sincerely Donna, a fed up 12-year-old that needs to get some sleep for early morning soccer practice

P.S. Don't chicken out! Go to Mexico and leave me to get some sleep so I can return to being close to fine!

1. Monster – Lady Gaga

2. The Miracle -- U2

3. Sister Golden Hair—America

4. Whoa Oh! ( Me vs. Everyone)—Forever the sickest kids

5. Stuck – Stacie Orrico

6. Bang Bang – k’naan & Adam Levine

7. Is this it – The Strokes

8. A Party Song (The walk of shame )—All Time Low

9. Mexico- James Taylor

10. Close to Fine – Indigo Girls

11. As long as you follow – Fleetwood Mac

12. Colors – The Rocket Summer

13. Wait – the beatles

14. Can you feel the love tonight – Elton John

15. Money Honey – Lady Gaga

16. You’re Not Sorry – Taylor Swift

17. Let me love you – Ne-Yo

18. Donna – FM Static

19. Classic –MKTO

20. Allow me to introduce myself…Mr. Right –The White Tie Affair

21. Night Drive – The All-American Rejects

22. My Baby – Jesse McCartney

23. Piece of My Heart – Janis Joplin

24. Punkb*Tch – 3OH!3

I’ve had many instances where I caught myself doing this and seen others guilty of letting their emotions override their logical thought process. Arguments happen worldwide over what someone thinks the other person said, or meant, or their body language, which the other person interpreted as offensive.

Instead of letting this emotional response get the best of us, our world would be a better place if we all took a step back, breathed, and asked for clarification of what the person really meant. Instead of analyzing and taking offense of what we think they meant. So many hurt feelings, conflicts, and deaths could be avoided.

Every human thinks they are an accurate mind reader, but humans are too unpredictable to correctly predict one hundred percent of the time.

It happened right after college. I was working a full-time assistant store manager job and was exhausted. Both physically and mentally drained to my core. My only thoughts were of work and getting home to pass out and sleep. At work I never had a moment to myself. I changed to an office job that ended up being just as stressful with phones ringing off the hook, interrupting every train of thought I had. I would start to have an interesting idea about a story and then brrrinnngg! I hated that phone. The obnoxious idea killer.

It wasn’t until I moved out of state and got into a new job that my mind was able to wander again. Every day on my drive to work I would be amazed by the bright reds, oranges, greens and yellows of the leaves on all the trees in springtime. I fell in love with all of these large old trees along my commute. I gave each one a story. With the largest weeping willow I ever saw in my life being my favorite. The tall weeping willows extended its branches down over one side of the road. Semi-trucks would drive right under the tree and be a perfect fit to get through without moving the thin, flexible branches. While the city I live in is a hub for transportation, I saw this tree as being the central hub for transporting natures creatures. I liked to think that little animals could use those branches and drop down on the semi-trucks. Hitching a ride around town with the wind blowing through their fur.

It was through this change in scenery and job that I was able to get out of my rut of writer’s block.