The Best I Have

Recently in class we were asked to blog about our favorite piece of writing that we were most proud of. Since I came to writing in my last year of high school, I do not have a lot of complete papers--that's actually a poor excuse but anyways . . . I had to think about what my favorite piece of writing is; the one that elicits a lot of preening on my part when I think about it.

Eventually, I came to a short essay that I had to write for a British Lit class. It was supposed to be based on Wordsworth's concept of "spots of time", or memories that had a huge impact on a person's life. It took a little bit at the time to decide on a spot of time, considering lots of things can impact a life. But I finally settled on the memory that occurred overseas, in the mountains of Germany.

The summer before I turned seventeen, I went to Germany with my parents. Though I have many fond memories of the experience, one stuck with me particularly. I wrote about my day and a half in a tiny town in the middle of the Black Forest on top of a massive and steep hill. I had just finished a very rough year in high school and was relieved to not just be out of the school, but away from it all with an ocean between. It was gorgeous on top of that hill (I can't remember the town's name). Since I love to walk, I got up early and took a long stroll all through the town and the walking path that zig-zagged all over it.

Since my writing was supposed to reflect Wordsworth, who lives up to his name and uses very flowery, dreamy language with tons of imagery, I had to conjure up as many details as I could. I remembered a lot from that walk, but some I did elaborate. We also had to write how the memory impacted our life, and my explanation was honest and about mental health. It was not cheesy, but like most writers, I doubted myself. I couldn't help but feel it was kind of pathetic when I turned it in.

I never believed it was bad; just not great. When my professor handed it back a week later, I was shocked and thrilled from my toes to the top of my head to see an A. She wrote that I really understood Wordsworth and my writing reflected his very well. I was ecstatic! I have always done well on papers, but for some reason that was the best experience I have ever had. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that someone found my personal writing interesting and actually well-crafted that thrilled me so much. I hadn't ever had someone hint I was a good writer because I simply wrote about a personal experience and did so by imitating a famous poet. I mean, come on, what writer doesn't want to be able to write similarly and well to a famous author?

The essays sits in my folder quietly now. I pull it out when I need to smile or a boost of confidence. I bet another piece will replace it eventually, but for now it's the best I have.