My first brush with creative writing came back when I was in 5th grade. I hated school. I don’t know if I started to hate school and become more reclusive around that time. My parents got divorced around then so I had an easy excuse. Even if I didn’t know it then, I can see now that I suffered some emotional deficiencies from then on. Stuff I am still discovering presently.

Anyway, it was SOL day, the culmination of the entire year. I have feelings about SOL’s that I won’t share. But they are dumb. However, this one particular test I remember vividly. It was the English SOL. Every English SOL has some sort of writing section. They usually prompt you and you have to craft something that resembles what they would consider the standard of English at that grade.

In the 5th grade, there wasn’t a standard prompt. It was a booklet of blank pages and a prompt that essentially said “write what you want”. There were many a puzzled look from the other students. This was a challenge indeed. Some made it to other pages, but many didn’t make it passed the first page. Their minds just couldn’t produce anything to write.

On the other hand, I think I was the last to finish. I sat there for hours crafting a story that I called The Fast and the Furious. Of course, I stole the title and had some help from the popular blockbuster at the time (and maybe some Super Mario Kart) . But I wrote pages and pages.

I don’t remember most of the details, but I think the antagonist’s name was Clutch or something and I was the protagonist. Clutch was the go-kart champion of the neighborhood. Except he was also a bully and a criminal. I not only wanted to beat him, but I wanted justice. I don’t think he shot anyone. That would have probably been a little too hardcore.

I can’t remember the inciting incident. I think it involved me winning a brand new go-kart from some Race Wars type event, and then Clutch came to my backyard and stole it. This sparked a lengthy chase scene through suburban backyards and streets. That ended in a winner takes all race where the loser is then banished from the scene, or whatever. In my mind it was beautifully crafted. If they kept records of it, then it’s probably in a golden folder somewhere.

I was so proud of that piece of writing. And because the school system sucks, I never got to see it ever again. It lives now fragmented in my brain and here. And you know who else was impressed? No one. I told everyone what I wrote. They all just kind of laughed. I don’t know that anyone thought I was an idiot or anything, except my teacher. Mrs. Whedon was a jerk and she did not like me. Partly because I never showed up and because I was at a time in my life where I sought attention. But I am sure I surprised her when I was on the Advanced Placement list for that piece of writing.

Afterword

I was kind of at a loss for what to share to end the week. I feel like I have burnt out with fantasy this past week. So here we have a little memoir of sorts. Maybe I will be able to dig up some other incidents from my mind. Maybe I will just share stories from my life that have nothing to do with writing. Memoirs are an art in themselves so I am sure that I can come up with a few stories to entertain. This is also a chance for me to face and put into words some things that I have never mentioned to anyone. Writing out your demons is a good way to exorcise them.

Copyright 2022 Devin Butcher