Neon Unicorns

I was young.

Grade school young.

I knew writing was fun. My father and I did my language arts homework every night, and my favorite assignments always included writing our own stories. I come from a long line of storytellers. People with imagination and creativity woven into their bones. My grandad could easily weave a tale so fascinating, I never minded when he repeated one twice (or three or four times).

Things that you know should have been physically impossible, yet coming from his mouth, I believed every word.

Grandad wasn't the only one, though he helped shape my first 6 years, when we lived in England; no the main story teller in my life has always been my father. That's why my heart leapt for joy every time the teacher would say,

"We are going to write our own stories tonight. Whatever you like."

I would come home and present the paper to my dad and he would happily help me come up with some fantastic tale to impress the teacher into a good grade.

But not all writing happens in school and I wanted to impress my dad. Not for a good grade, but for the recognition that I too could reach master storyteller; as he had and my mawmaw (his mother) and my grandad before him.

I too could grab the attention of an audience. I was a shy kid, socially awkward to the max, the words always tumbled around in my head like sharp rocks in a rock tumbler. If I shook them out of my mouth too soon they were all still jagged and ill formed.

Mulling over your words doesn't make for good conversation.

But when I let my words simmer and tumble in my brain; and then poured them out onto paper, they looked like smooth pebbles of beauty. They flowed just right. I could express myself.

I must have been 9 or 10. I know I was young. I pulled out my school supplies and a Lisa Frank coloring book. I traced the pictures from the coloring book and stole my dad's stapler to bind the edges of my pages. All colored in crayon and ready for my words.

The front cover was a neon unicorn. I used the best of my crayons for that. I had the big box with the new neon colors in it and the sharpener on the back.

Fancy.

I can't even remember the name of my makeshift book. It was probably Unicorn Something. I do remember the story was about a young girl who meets a unicorn in the forest behind her house. (I just so happened to live in a house with a forest behind by the way.)

She takes a ride on the neon unicorn through the forest and meets a penguin in a top hat (it was a Lisa Frank coloring book yall, I was doing the best I could).

Together with the penguin and the neon unicorn, the girl goes on an adventure. Until she eventually finds a boy she has a crush on and they live happily ever after.

No prince charming, or castles. I wasn't your princess kind of little girl. More goblin king and fairies realm type of kid. The kind who evolve into weirdo witches like I am today.

This has shaped my writing into what it is today. A free run of smooth words. No complicated mess to make me sound smart and educated. I want to entertain and bring people a moment of happiness.

That is what that story was; I decorated it, I took my time in writing every letter. I taught myself the frustration of a first, second and sometimes third draft. I learned the thrill of showing off what I had created.

My tiny little creative brain craved more.

And so began a slew of corny stories, and cheesy poetry. Some have survived the wrath of the writer who didn't feel good enough. I enjoyed fire in my preteens, many a work were lost to the flames of puberty.

I helped create a magazine in our high school, that was dominated by agriculture and sports, and I eventually landed a dream job at the ripe old age of 30. I became a writer and assistant editor for our local newspaper.

Creatives and politics don't mix so that was a short lived dream.

Now I homeschool our two children, and live on coffee and prayers.

Writing has never stopped for me, it just takes a little more time in the tumbler to get those smooth words to come out.

Thing is, whenever I get stuck. Whenever I feel like my writing has gone nowhere, I think of neon unicorns. I started out with writing assignments with my dad and traced pictures of unicorns and penguins in top hats and have come to writing for places like this site and reaching so many other people out there that probably started out just like me.

With neon unicorns and penguins in top hats.