Blog #3 Melissa Davis

My wave didn’t come all at once, but in small, less devastating currents. Growing up as an only child, I felt loved and cherished. I felt I could accomplish anything, be anything I wanted. Even then I wrote stories and they were loved by my family and friends. In 8th grade, my world was turned upside down when my family when through a shocking financial loss. My father lost his job, we lost the house, I lost my friends, and we moved to the other side of the state. I can remember the arguments between my parents, the rice and soda cracker dinners, and the repo men coming to the door to take the car or truck and my father bargaining one more week. My mother got a job at a local private school and I, through tuition assistance, was allowed to go as well. This school was for privilege, wealthy students. I was no longer one of them and it showed. I never fit in; most of the students and faculty ignored me or wrote me off. My grades and education suffered and I stopped writing. My self-confidence took a nose-dive. I felt very inadequate and lost my ability to imagine a good story.
After high school, college opened my imagination up again with its diverse classmates and teachers. I began writing again. I found a wonderful man and we started dating. He was a writer and we reveled in our intelligence. Unfortunately, he decided (and I let him) that he was much more intelligent than I was and felt compelled to tell me this over and over. He belittled my work, my confidence bottomed out, and I gave up writing, again.
I moved to Atlanta and finished college. I began working at Barnes and Noble and was suddenly surrounded by books and writers. I found some of my confidence and began writing. Many of the booksellers were wannabe writers and we would frequently share work. I began to see a writing career in my future again, this time in young adult literature. I met another man, this one I married. He was the exact opposite from the previous relationship and I felt that I could explore my imagination and be again who or what I wanted to be. But, apparently I made another bad choice, and again my work and my self-confidence took a hit. After four years of marriage, two miscarriages, and one affair (his not mine), I was suddenly divorced and alone.
I was teaching middle school at this time, and through my students, I finally regained my ability and my drive to write. Modeling writing is one of the best ways to teach writing and I embraced it. I shared my stories with the students and found that not only did their writing improve, but so did mine. My students have inspired me to find the inner writer and do what I know I should do – be a writer.