I have loved to write from the very beginning. Each year in school I looked forward to the writing assessments. I always anticipated prompts they might ask. With my big family, life was never boring. I always had a fun story to recall, and loved getting to construct it and put it on paper.
And then came academic writing. Though research papers were not initially as fun, I have always been able to still find my own voice and be proud of a paper to call my own. Until my Lit classes....
Not only do I have to read something that makes little sense to me (the first three times), but I have to put it into context, summarize it, tell about the parts that were most interesting to me (and why), and then interpret the piece as a whole, and relate it to other things we have been learning.
Doing said assignments is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life. It takes every bit of my concentration and patience. It is as though I have to squeeze out every single sentence from my brain until, one by one, it is complete. And then I pray very hard that it makes a bit of sense.
Don't get me wrong, I always feel better after these assignments are complete, but while they are in the making, you may as well chain my arms and legs down to the edge of a cliff and torture me.
This is a lesson for me. I hope to instill in my children a love for literature, so when this part comes around they are more worried about having too much to say. Fantasy? Yeah.