When I Realized that I Loved Writing
When I was little, my mom made me write letters. Lots of letters. All. The. Time. Or so it felt. I wrote letters to my grandmothers, and my aunts. I wrote letters to my friends, and my great grandparents. I even wrote letters to one of my great uncles for awhile. And I hated it with a passion. I hated coming up with things to say. I hated having to copy everything out in my best handwriting. I hated every part of writing. Except the receiving letters back part. That was fun. Then came the time when I had to go through a writing book for school. Like a learn-how-to-write writing book. It was torture. It was difficult. And boring. I cried over that book a lot. My poor mother thought that she had ruined me, and that I would forever hate anything to do with writing. I thought I would forever hate writing, too. When I was 13, I wanted to get a Facebook account. No surprise there . My mother made me earn it. Two letters per