“I cannot pinpoint the moment I knew I would become a writer. It seems writing has always been with me — like an imaginary friend, or a shadow. However, I can recall a moment when a shift occurred because something within me had been named.
Some friends and I were on our way home from Longfellow School. Walking along Jackson toward the stoplight, the crossing guard was ready to take us across Ridgeland. I never spoke to her save to say “Hello” occasionally, but I thought of her as strong, and sturdy. She seemed like the sort of person who knew everything about everyone. She knew, not from being nosy, but from observation — from standing on that corner of Ridgeland and Jackson year after year, and watching us grow from 5-year-olds, waddling away from toddlerhood, to 12-year-olds running, many times tripping, toward teenage-dom.
It was on this corner while we were waiting for the light to turn green, and for the crossing guard to take her first steps so we could take ours, that I was in the middle of telling a story to my friends. It was a true story, one with suspense and intrigue. At least I was doing my best to make it that way.
We crossed, I finished my story, and my friend Sarah nudged me in the side and said, “I swear, Callie, that story gets better every time you tell it.”
She was being sarcastic. She was understandably exasperated from hearing the story probably hundreds of times. But she was right. My story did get better the more I told it.”
Today, I’m featured in The Wednesday Journal writing about Twirl, growing up in Oak Park, Illinois, and how that village and its surrounding great city skyline influenced my writing. Read the rest of the story, here.
That cute-as-a-button little girl in the pink dress is Sarah, who did give me the best writing advice one elementary school afternoon on the way home from school. She’s currently the Executive Editor at Prevention magazine, so clearly, she knew what she was talking about. I’m the gal on the right rockin’ my shy smile and bowl cut.
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