A good writer feels her stories. A good writer relates to her stories. But most of all, a good writer uses her imagination. I guess you could say I’m a good writer. I feel my stories, I mean, the paper seems pretty smooth. I can relate to my stories, I mean, I have written stories with my Aunt’s name in them. As for my imagination, I try as hard as I can to avoid it.
Some say imagination is a wonderful gift, but it seems to be more like a curse. My imagination runs wild. The only way to keep it from being released is a prompt. If I would lose the safety of a prompt, my imagination would free itself. You see, once you have a prompt, your imagination is tied down to a concept. If I didn’t have a prompt, my imagination would come loose. Although now, I must face my imagination as the dreaded free write.
My imagination knows my innermost thoughts, my biggest fears, and my darkest secrets. For my imagination to be free, possibilities are endless. How do I possibly make it so that my imagination doesn’t take control? I could hide all the pencils in the house! What am I saying? My imagination can see everything I can. My imagination would know where I hid them. So how do I stop the force in my head? I could pretend to be sick! Then I wouldn’t have to turn in my paper tomorrow. That would at least buy me some time to come up with a new plan. So it’s settled, I’ll be “sick” tomorrow.
Morning, that time when……wait……..IT’S MORNING! It’s show time! Role of a sick person, and action. Even after I tried every trick in the book, I still am forced to go to school. This might be harder than I thought. One thing’s for sure; I can’t let my imagination free. I’ve gotta find a way to avoid it.
I need to convince my teacher to give us a prompt. No, Mrs. Smith is too stubborn for that. I can’t escape my imagination. There’s no way. The time had come for my third hour class, language arts. Mrs. Smith took attendance. Now it was time to share our stories aloud. Beverley went first, as always. She read a story about a girl named Ramona. Then, Mary shared her story about two kids and a time traveling tree house. After Mary went, a boy name Andrew read about a pen like I’d never heard before. Then it occurred to me, all of these stories were magnificent. They were a masterpiece made by their imagination. Imagination was nothing to be afraid of! An imagination is part of who you are. Imagination is everything beyond belief, and I wasn’t going to hide mine anymore.
When Mrs. Smith called my name, I was confident and ready. I got up and read my story with pride. I knew I was a true writer. I knew the world was my paper, and I couldn’t wait to grab a pencil and start my first draft. I stood up in front of the class and shared my imagination with the world. I haven’t held my imagination down since that day it lead me. I know now to let my imagination fly, and I haven’t let it touch the ground for a second.
Jessica Frank has always liked to write. It helps her to express her thoughts in a way not much else can. It allows her to use creativity, as well as knowledge, to make something worth sharing.