Once upon a time in third grade, I found writing fun. My teacher made sure we all had the traditional wide-ruled, black& white composition notebooks, and gave us fun and creative prompts. Once a week we would all share what we wrote. I liked the freedom of it. I didn't have to worry about intros, conclusions and passive voice. My teacher eventually taught us the standard 5 paragraph style to prepare for the essay test, but I didn't feel the pressure then.
By the time I got to high school, my love of writing warped. And by warped I mean my grade-driven panic and tendency to over think
nearly strangled it to death and then lit it on fire as an inauguration of
hatred and
fear.
