Your dream can become a reality!

“You will never be a writer.” Those words rushing through my head as I paced the bedroom I was in. I stopped, looking down at my cherry brown wood desk and it came to me, the story I would write. At a young age I fell in love with writing. Classical music would play in my small bedroom as I would brainstorm for hours. Thirteen years old and what was my favorite hobby? Writing stories.

A few months prior to writing the story that would change my life, I was in my freshman year of high school and I was sitting in the back corner of my Language Arts classroom. The Teacher a young, tall, and slender blonde lady stood up to confront the class of twenty plus students. The semester was almost over, and I was going to barely pass the class with a C. She went around the room asking each student what they wanted to be when they grow up. I was nervous to give my answer because I knew I would stand out. No one in the room had given the answer I was about to give. My turn finally came, and I stood up as I spoke “I want to be a writer.” I could hear chuckles from other students in the room as I sat back down.

The bell rang as class came to an end. The teacher asked me to stay after class, so I thought maybe she was going to try and encourage me after the other students laughed. I wasn’t fully ready for the words that would come out of her mouth. I walked up to her desk and waited patiently for her to look up from the papers she was grading to acknowledge me. A look of disappointment was on her face which left me confused. Why would she be disappointed I thought as she begun to speak. “Micah, I always encourage my students to chase their dreams, but you will never be a writer. Your grammar isn’t good enough.” I was in disbelief as my heart felt like it had just shattered inside my chest.

I nodded not knowing what to say and turned away as a single tear ran down my cheek. I headed home and rushed into my bedroom throwing my face on my pillow sobbing. I laid there for what seemed like hours. Finally, I sat up sitting on my bed staring at the blue walls in my room. It was five o’clock which meant my father would be arriving home.

My father was and still is my hero to this day. He was the one I would always run to when I had an issue. This day was no different. The door to the garage slammed shut. He took his blue wrangler jean jacket off and laid it on the back of the nearest chair. I walked into the room where he could see my face with my messy brown hair and my blood shot blue eyes. He asked, “what’s wrong son?” We have always had a relationship that was open. There was never anything that went unsaid. I proceeded to tell him what happened at school that day. My father told me to go sit down on the Victorian couch that was placed on top of the white carpet in our living room.

“Bud when I was around your age, I had something very similar happen to me” he said. I straightened up in my seat waiting with anticipation as he was about to tell me this story. “When I was about your age I loved to draw and paint. I wanted to become an artist, but I had a teacher tell me I wouldn’t be able to. While, I had similar feelings to what you have, I’m sure. I ripped up all the artwork I had created and threw it in the trash.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing I would have never known. You see growing up he did artwork with my sisters and I all the time creating things like a Santa Claus tree toper for Christmas, building a deck that had his own unique design, or drawing superheroes for me and my friends. “Listen up son. Never and I mean never let anyone tell you that you cannot do something. If it seems impossible then you work hard enough to reach the impossible, you never give up.”

A few months passed and a writing competition was presented to me at our local church. I decided to enter it. It was a fictional story contest in which I had to meet certain requirements to even be considered. I worked on it tirelessly always bugging my sister for help on the grammar. I finished just in time for the deadline. The title of this short story was “The Doubled Minded Man.”

I remember developing this first story like it was yesterday. The first part to writing a good story starts with an idea. Who or what is the story about and what will the final outcome in your story be? Each time I write a story I start with a title before putting pen to paper. The title shapes and molds the story you’re about to write. During the process of creating what would become the “The Double Minded Man,” I used this format. Pacing my room speaking to myself as ideas rushed through my brain. A man who lives a double life acting one way around certain people but different around others. He was living a false reality trying to cover up part of who he was. With a small idea in place, I sat down and started writing the title “The Double Minded Man.” I have taken several classes over the years on how someone can develop a story and the many different steps you should take to create that story. I disagree with each class I have taken on how to develop a story except one. Writing a story isn’t about your grammar or following a rigid set of steps. Instead, it takes you finding what works for you. For me it’s always been the same process: classical music, a quiet room, brainstorming verbally, and starting with a title. One thing I will always remember from a seminar I took is this quote “Writers write, and thinkers think.” If you think you have a good idea then start writing, a story cannot become a story unless you put it on paper.

The competition was for the whole state of Missouri. Teenagers from all over of various age groups had entered to win. Multiple college students and one college graduate also entered the contest. I was nervous to say the least. “You will never be a writer,” ran through my head like clockwork the entire weekend of the competition.

The time had finally come for the three judges to announce the winner. The judges walking up on the stage to grab the microphone and the announcement proceeded. “In 3rd Place…” One of the college students took third place. “In 2nd Place…” The college graduate took second. I thought to myself she was right I’m not good enough to be a writer. How could I beat a college graduate and a current college student? I was only a freshman in high school who was struggling in Language Arts. The judges spoke “and in 1st place and headed to the national stage is Micah Whited.” I couldn’t believe it the amount of emotion was overwhelming. Tears were running down my face as I stood up to walk on the stage to receive my trophy.

I went to the national stage and didn’t do as well, but the fact that I was able to make it there showed me that if it seems impossible then I just have to work hard enough to reach the impossible. As the years have passed since that day, I have had a short film I wrote played at a movie theater in Springfield, MO, I’ve written many short stories, and I am currently working on my first book. Just like anything else in life if you want to be great at something then you must work for it. Becoming a writer takes a willingness to do more each time you attempt to create a story. It takes a passion and love to write, not feeling like writing is a laborious task. A writer is someone who loves telling a story and is willing to put in the work to create a piece of artwork on paper. Writing for me never feels like a chore, instead I love it. Even writing this blog for this post doesn’t feel like another required assignment because it’s my passion. In life, if you find something you are passionate about then chase it and don’t let the world try and decide whether you’re good enough or not. No goal is impossible if you just work hard enough to reach it and if you do you will be astonished of what you can accomplish.