A Christmas present for any past (or future) author

Write it down.

Write. It. Down.

Sound advice. It’s that simple.

Too many of us were swayed by the class smartypants. “Will this be on the test?”

As if there’s a paper shortage?

Beginning in junior high, I’d write down everything. In seventh grade art, I scribbled down the heart of a sermon from the teacher.

“I want everyone standing in line in the lunchroom,” she preached. “No pushing. No cutting. I’ll stand in the back of the line with you. If any of you ever see me budge to the front of the line, you’ll be entitled to come stand with me.”

Scene two begins in the school lunchroom, the last week of school. There is pious Miss Thompson, stepping in front of hungry kids, leading the way for two other teachers.

From the back of the line, I followed. “Let me in,” I begged the put-upon student. “You won’t regret it.”

I tapped Miss T on the shoulder. I waved.

She stared at me, dumbfounded.

Her teaching cohort growled. “You get to the back of the line, young man. Right now!”

I shook my head. “Miss Thompson, you told us that if you ever cut, we could cut in line with you. Remember?”

The defeated teacher rolled her eyes, chewed her lip and nodded. “Come on,” she muttered.

Soon, kids were pointing, whispering. Then, laughing. I think I remember clapping.

Why write down a sentence? An idea?

Because, your day will come. Just like it did for me.

 

 

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