In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Right to Brag.”
I’ve got 30 minutes before today’s done, making this Daily Prompt, by and large for no real reason aside from my arbitrary adherence to the space-time continuum, no longer relevant very soon.
Title: Right to Brag
Prompt: “Tell us about something you (or a person close to you) have done recently (or not so recently) that has made you really, unabashedly proud.”
Well, this one’s simple isn’t it? I normally don’t take pride in all of what I do or have done in life simply because if it’s worth being prideful over, it’ll have to be something truly great. And I’m only 22 years old with nary a scratch made into the world. Everything up until this point has just been what was expected of me. I finished High School, went to College, did very well in college (probably better than anyone would have dared hope), and met friends, helped people, had a couple relationships, did dumb and smart things, and generally made a normal mess of life as people are wont to do.
But you know what nobody told me to do? Nobody told me to write a book for my final assignment in my 301 Fiction Writing class. See, I could have put instead that I’m proud of my actual publishing of said book after editing it for a couple of months. Or I could have put that my fiction defence thesis went beautifully in my senior year of undergraduate and that I’m set to release my next book in maybe a month or so.
But nah, I’m choosing to focus on when I was asked to write “30 double-space pages, give or take a few” for my final assignment of 301 Fiction Writing in my junior year of undergraduate. And, like some gremlin meant to torment my poor creative writing teacher (this would be my third and final class taught by her), I handed in 124 pages totaling to a very messy and very ramshackle novella.
I got an A- on the assignment, by the way owing to my general lack of editing. And this was after spending no fewer than 9 hours on one day reading the entire thing from beginning to end and fixing whatever I saw. But fair’s square, I take the grade. Because, like that old stupid saying goes:
“When I say ‘jump,’ you-”
“Sorry, can’t hear you, I’ve already leapt clear through the ceiling.”
I may have paraphrased that a little.
Yes, the original state of Garamoush was ramshackle and held together naught but sheer ambition and imagination but dammit I felt proud (and exhausted, having turned it in only about two minutes before the final deadline) when I held those 124 pages in my hand and they weighed with a weight that I had never known before. It was the weight of accomplishment, of doing something that somebody had asked for in my own way and to my own level of quality and quantity. It was a work entirely wrought from my mind with my hands that could floor everything else I had ever created up until that point.
But see, I knew that it was better than anything else I had ever done. Usually I simply speculate on the importance of works or projects or wonder what greater role they place. That first state of Garamoush helped to define the next couple years of my life and sent me off on a path that I could have only started on if I threw myself up and out through that ceiling with caution to the wind and reckless abandon to assault my professor with tormenting nightmares of grading.
She liked me as a student, though! She sat on my council of literary judgement one year later and gave me a glowing (I assume) acceptance for my research honours thesis.
Or maybe she just wanted me out of her hair.
Until I emailed her about getting letters of recommendation for grad school!
She’ll never be free of me! Never.
Minutes to spare and I’ll I’ve got to do is write a lame little outro. I got this!
So now that’s my cue to start dawdling and wandering into any given Wiki site and emerge three days later with a huge beard and much more knowledge about the state of the Undercity or the political structure of the Imperium of Man than any human ever should.
Above and beyond, right?
<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/right-to-brag/">Right to Brag</a>
Good luck, you brave writer folk!