Well, I just finished reading my english book, so its time to write.  My history of w riting is like a bad drama movie:  it tries to be cool, but in the end, its just lame and poorly made.  So lets get striaght to the story.

It all started in elementary school.  I was in an Outreach program for the kids in the school that were super smart (I still to this day question why i was in that class).  Every year, we would always enter an amusment parks writing contest.  The park would print out the topic in the newspaper, and kids would write about it and whoever won in their division would take their classroom on a field trip to the park.  It was always great because you got to miss school and the park was basically empty.  In my class, everyone had to write an essay, so I gave it a shot.  My first topic was to make up a fiction story that takes place in the Appalacian Mountains.  I got so into the story, and my teacher thought it was great.  I didn't win the contest, but one of my classmates did, so it all worked out.  

I kept writing up.  I would continue my fiction story in my journal I had all the way into my 8th grade year.  My teachers kept asking me to write papers, but these were not creative writing projects, so if I did bad, I would use the excuss that I couldn't express my self while I was talking about the different temperate zones.  So in my 8th grade year, I had to take a writing exam.  It was a state wide (or national, i am not sure) writing exam.  They would give us a topic and we would have about 45 minutes to write on the subject.  Well I wrote (in my opinion) one of the best papers i have ever done.  I was on top of the world.  Our teacher told us that the results would be given to us at the end of the year.  I kept imagining whether they were going to give us a 6, or maybe they would invinte a 7 just for me (they graded you on a scale from 1 to 6, so getting a 6 is a big deal).  The end of the year came, and our grades came out.  My teacher let us come up to her folder where she had the scores.  When she called my name, i was thinking "Give me a 6 baby!".  I got up there, and i saw the number that changed my writing career

4

"Four!" I yelled in my head, "How did I get a 4!?".  It didn't help that the people around me were getting fives and sixes.  I was one of two kids in my class that got a 4.  It absolutly killed me.  

When i got home I thought to myself "The judges clearly don't think I am good at writing, so I am just going to give it up".  I got my book I was working on (it was about 150 pages now) and i threw it away.  I wanted to give it up forever.  Ever since that moment, I no longer write for fun.  I just write if my english teacher asks me to (don't worry english teachers, i am not mad at you).  So that in a nutshell, is the history of my writing.  Hope I didn't depress you too much.