WRITERS WRITE

by Danna Shirley

            I’ve always been a reader thanks to my mother who was an elementary school teacher for over thirty years. She encouraged my sisters and me to “turn off that television and pick up a book.” Nan and I became avid readers and still are to this day. However, my sister Paula said, “I never want to read another book in my life!” after she spent 7½ years in college trying to figure out what she wanted to do.

            Children could walk home from school in safety in those days (1950s) so I would go by way of the public library. I always had books to return and then would select more. I remember checking out one particular book that had difficult words for my age. I got frustrated trying to read it but my mother kept encouraging me to sound it out. I was very proud of myself when I finally finished that book.

            I was probably in my 40s when I began thinking to myself as I read, “I wish I could write like this.” Then my thoughts graduated to, “I can write like this!” Little by little an idea would come to me for a story or the name for a character that I thought was inspiring. Nothing came to fruition, however, until I was 56 and began working at the Bartlett Senior Center. They had a creative writing class at one time but the leader had moved away and so the class had disbanded. The director asked if I would like to start it up again. They had one member I could call who was interested.

            I didn’t believe I could actually be considered a “teacher” so my daughter and I put our heads together and decided I would be the “facilitator.” When my first writer joined me for my very first class, I finally began to really write.

George Mitchell taught me more than I ever taught him. He had many stories in his portfolio and I had none. At the end of class I would throw out some ideas for a short story assignment but George didn’t like assignments. He also didn’t like to start at the beginning. He would write the ending first and fill in the blanks later.

All writers have their own style. One is not better than another.

It’s just what works for them . . . and what doesn’t.

            I remember sharing one prompt with the class and as I wrote my supposed “short story” I knew there was so much more I could add. I envisioned a book . . . my first novel, Sleepy Bend. It flowed easily through my fingers and ended at page 230. I got one of the character’s names from two road signs as I traveled through Alabama—Jemison and Thorsby. My hero would be Jemison Thornsby. (see book on my blog: danna1966.blogspot.com)

My writing is my passion, my mission; just as an artist paints or an athlete trains. I have a thought and immediately the story unfolds. I read a headline and can direct it into a fictional tale. I view a picture and see the word play behind it.

Thank You, Lord, for imparting to me this insatiable hunger for writing. It is my outlet, my therapy, and my ministry, as I share Your love with others.