A Writing Life (Part 6)

So, there are two blank spaces in my life. This, as I said, was an advantage. I began to write without thinking that I had to sound like anyone else I read. I still have the first poem I ever wrote for my own pleasure. There were assignments and school books that my mother saved (these do not count; they belong to the particular environment of my grade school, not my home). I was fourteen or fifteen (probably the latter) and had a small notepad. I had not yet gotten into the habit of carrying around something to write in when I went out, so I know that I wrote this in my room. It was about a prince in his kingdom observing his world and his life. I will not quote the poem here, except for an interesting simile about the movement of dancers “like drunken scarecrows.” I still like that comparison and am glad that I came up with it as a teenager. I just wish I knew why I wrote it. I had no intention of being a writer, especially a poet. My plan was to study science and become a scientist of some sort. I had even gone as far as to tell my mother that I would not have time for my guitar with all of the school work I expected to have. None of this proved to be true. The bug had bitten.
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I now wonder if schools can ever encourage good writing. My interest in science was partly inspired by the misconceptions I had about what being scientist meant. I watched science programs (one called “Don’t Ask Me” was a favorite) and science-fiction movies and television programs. No one in my family was a scientist. No one I knew had even graduated from university or college (my mother had to come to Canada to get her high school diploma). But I really felt that I could be a scientist. I remember reading a comic book once and discovering the line “the smooth purity of science.” I liked that phrase and kept it in mind whenever I had difficulties with a school project or assignment. It was what I wanted from my school.