My First Writing Thingy

Quite recently I was asked to participate in a blog chain. A most arcane series of posts by an insane cabal of angst-filled, pimple-faced teen writers, a demographic of which I, for better or worse, am a part of. The brief was simple enough. It was “What do you first remember writing of your own free will.”

I was wrong. This is not simple. This is actually quite difficult. It takes a lot of effort for me to go back through the preternatural ether of my early existence, past dinosaurs, echidnas, sand and strange smelly things to pick up such a strange morsel of remembrance. I have however located it. It is my name.

Unfortunately, due to privacy issues I can’t tell you my name. So that destroys what may have been a wonderful, thought-provoking post about my name and its Hebraic origins. I learnt a bit of Hebrew last week for faeces and laughs. I can still remember a couple of basic phrases like the assertive “Slikha!” and the perennial “Ani mevin ivrit?” Ah, Hebrew. What an idiosyncratic language, like the multi-coloured swirls of oil in the potholes of the road of existence, you never fail to provide me with a sense of exhilaration and renewed enthusiasm with this grey and robotic world.

But returning to the topic at hand, I do remember something… So clear now despite its temporal distance… Like it was yesterday…

*bites capsicum and looks off into near distance*

It was several pages of a marvellous epic, a tale about two Kiwis (the birds not the people) named Tooa and Ayot. It detailed their whimsical journeys to the beach and back, and the start of a journey, via container ship, across the wide Pacific Ocean to mysterious Pitcairn Island.

In hindsight it contained some quite advanced concepts, like the futility of anthropomorphising small flightless birds, a certain human hunger for the different things (through an Avian prism), and a titanic struggle against the forces of nature in their heart-pulsing search for small littoral crustaceans.

I think it was at that moment, with my highly detailed plot structure, character profiles, and intricate illustrations, that I knew what path my life would go down. I knew that my lifelong dream would be achieved. I knew I that if I knuckled down, tried hard, pushed myself to my utmost limits, I could become an apprentice baker in a rural branch of a gigantic supermarket conglomerate.

Want to follow our blog tour? Here are the participating parties, day by day
October 15th — – A Farewell To Sanity
October 16th — – Eat, Sleep, Write, Repeat
October 17th — – Tay’s Tape
October 18th — – Novel Journeys
October 19th —- – Red Herring Online
October 20th —– Kirsten Writes!
October 21st — – The Incessant Droning of a Bored Writer
October 22nd — – Here’s To Us
October 23rd — – Teens Can Write Too! (We will be announcing the topic for the next month’s chain)


22 thoughts on “My First Writing Thingy

  1. Conglomerate. That is such a cool word.
    How old are you again? I mean, evidently you’re one of us teens, but that’s quite a wide age range…and you use long words 😉

  2. Apologies for the lateness of this comment; been a little backed up with accounting work. >_<

    Interesting, and entertaining post – brilliant. I really enjoyed reading, this post, and your blog as a whole! I agree though, looking back and thinking to that initial piece of writing is definitely tougher than it seems.

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