7th Grade Wisdom

"A writer would never say that," he scolds from his desk across the room in response to my whining that I have nothing to write about. "Well, I just said it," I sass back.
Am I not free to express my frustration with the blank page and the flashing cursor? There are days when the words pour from my body like blood from a slashed artery and then there are days like today, where every letter feels like a struggle and every page takes hours to fill.
In 7th grade, Mrs. Fields sent me to the Iowa Young Writer's Conference with a story I wrote called "Sparky" tucked in my over the shoulder book bag. "Sparky" was about a dog who was thrown away by the family he loved and how he struggled to survive alone on the streets. I received a lot of positive feedback about that story and I remember feeling so proud and so excited to be considered a "writer." It is funny how those feelings fade, how I question my path, my journey because I am not exactly where I want to be. How can I question something that comes so naturally, something that makes me feel so alive, so passionate, so present? How can I question something that already felt right at 12 years old?
On my end of the season evaluation I received a 4 in decisiveness, in most everything else (except punctuality) I received 5's...now I see the connection.