I am more than okay being embarrassed by my past. I figure if I'm not embarrassed, I haven't changed. I've made a lot of mistakes in life, and a lot of mistakes in writing. But those mistakes have enabled me to grow, and to become both a better person, and a better writer.
The tendency as an artist is to compare yourself to others, but that's crazy. There are a lot of factors that go into getting good at something, and it's safe to say the biggest is time. Most people don't pick up a cello, or basketball, or paintbrush and have it mastered in just one day. It takes both practice and patience to become proficient at anything.
We all start somewhere, and I'm not about to forget that.
Excerpt from "Save Me a Kiss in Heaven"
By Michelle (Reeves) Bredeson
1992, Age 13 (I think)
Danielle and Alex were at a party with their boyfriends Ryan and Eddie.
Danielle had long, brown hair and big brown eyes. She was 19.
Alex's hair was auburn and her eyes were bright green. She was only 18, though.
Ryan's hair was brown; his eyes were the perfect blue color. He was 19.
Like Danielle and Alex, Ryan and Eddie were best friends.
Eddie had soft, brown hair, along with a perfect set of amaizing hazel eyes. He was also 19.
"This party's a bomb," Alex said. "Let's go somewhere else."
"Ya," Danielle agreed.
"Okay," Eddie said, his arm around Alex.
"We'll take my car," Ryan offered, refurring to his BMW convertible.
So they all went outside and got into Ryan's car.
Eddie and Alex were in the backseat kissing.
"Damnit, you guys," Danielle said. "Is all you guys do is make-out?"
"Yes!" They yelled together and continued kissing.
"Hey," Ryan said. "Let's go to my house, my parents aren't home."
Danielle smiled. "I may not give you what you want," she said.
"We call all hope, can't we?" he said. Then they pulled into his driveway.
When they went inside, they decided to watch a movie.
"What do you wonna watch?" Ryan questioned.
"A horror," Eddie said, knowing that Alex liked them also.
"Okay with you?" he asked Danielle. She nodded.
So they ended up watching SleepWalkers.
The needle on my sarcasmometer is, at the moment, being pushed to its limits. It's obvious that my priorities had nothing to do with storytelling, and that's okay. I was a kid, and my goals at the time consisted of being cool and having a boyfriend. I had no idea that 20 years later, I'd be sharing my work with the world.
I'm so grateful that I was willing to put myself out there, to write, to try. I can't imagine myself as anything but a writer, and I think that in some way, the little girl putting her thoughts on paper all those years ago couldn't either.