Writing For Design :: Personal Narrative Papers

Writing For Design I was born in Salem, Oregon, which is a fantastic place to leave. It’s one of those places that people appreciate more not having ever been there. They may have some vague idea that it’s the capital of the most underrated state in the country, but they are astonished that people actually come from it. Well, we do. Not a lot of writers, though. I think this is the case because to be a writer you can stay where you are, and that contradicts the basic drive of everyone born in Salem. However, before I left, I wrote things for me to say. You see, I shy away from the term â€Å"perform† because, in actuality, it was just me talking for the sake of talking. Which is why my first calling was acting. The first thing I ever wrote was a play about Zorro, with whom I was in the throes of a passionate love affair. It was legitimate, we had been secretly married, after all, but we could not be public about it because of his persona as a romantic super hero. It would have been devastating to his following, you understand. Like a Backstreet Boy. I talked the story out to my babysitter and she transcribed it for me. Every line was mine, every plot twist was mine, including the show stopper where Zorro discovers that the masked man stealing the pies off the window sill is in fact – shock – the obese sheriff. A little bit Scooby Doo, a little bit Bernstein Bears and Brother’s Problem With Kleptomania. I wish I could say that I had some cool Hawking-esque paralysis that prevented me from writing it myself, but the truth is I just couldn’t write. I was three and a half. Later, after my parents seemed utterly bored with Zorro and the Missing Pies after only three hundred performances, I began writing on my own. What, one might ask? Well, I am an only child†¦ I invented siblings. There were four of them: two older, two younger, two boys, two girls. With me in the middle. I like balance and symmetry. We were like the Box Car Child ren or those orphans in Homecoming, but with really cool, undead parents. In addition to my chronicle-writing duties, I had to take care of these characters I had created. I made them soup when they were sick.