I've been busy writing a sequel, but I
think my book that's coming out might be painfully short. So I am
thinking I may need these few stories to plump it up when my editor
sees the actual word count.
A very long time ago a friend of mine
had a daughter who was a journalist. She said of my masterpiece novel
(not published) that “She's not a real writer. She's just a
story-teller.” I shrank in size from that remark. I allowed her to
define my abilities.
A harmless joke brought all that
self-doubt back. Every rejection slip, every insult just piled on me
all over again. Why? I have been winning awards on my writing since I
was in 2nd grade.
You know to my people (Native
Americans) the story-teller is sacred. So why my ego gets so deflated
by one remark made another lifetime ago is beyond me. If it were not
for the story-tellers who would remember their ancestry, lore,
legends and oral histories? This I know yet still it hurts.
So I will tell you of another story, my
own personal stock. When I was in 3rd grade I had an art
teacher Mrs. Armada. I don't know why but she just hated me. One day
she asked us all to draw a picture of what we did over the weekend. I
drew a bright raincoat for myself and a huge snoopy umbrella. I
showed myself jumping in a puddle as that had been my weekend.
She had us all show our work and then
stood me up in front of the class (again) and said to all.... Angel
drew herself playing in the rain and Kirsten drew herself playing in
the sun. Is it possible that it rained at Angel's but not at
Kirsten’s?
The whole class answered no and began
to laugh (as usual) as Mrs. Armada announced that I would never learn
to draw because I was stupid.
It upset me so much, that angry
repetition every week in art class until I reached 6th
grade and moved to the next school... that I literally could not stop
drawing. I won every art contest I ever entered just about. I have
art work and poetry that has been to the Vietnam Wall and is archived
to go into the Vet's museum when it is built.
I am only blogging about it to you
because well...
Do you think I should thank her. Or is it more of a "Hey Mrs. Armada... Nanny nanny boo boo sort of thing?
That's my side of it,
Angel
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