Who was your first writing mentor?

[Judy Jester]

My oldest brother Bob was the coolest big brother ever. When he told us younger kids classic bedtime stories like Goldilocks, he incorporated us, our friends, even our cousins into the plotlines. He created his own version of the Sears Wishbook for a sadistic character he created named Dr. Ipps. The cat-o-nine-tails that was featured included a product code for ease of ordering. He wrote and filmed weekly horror movies starring my other brother, sister and me, and then showed them to the neighborhood kids. All of this by the age of twelve. He is still the one I try to impress. How about you?

[Barry Lane]

Love that picture of Bob, Judy.

In some ways my first writing mentor was my older brother Michael. He was not cool, in fact he was often picked on by kids in the neighbor hood because he thought he was Superman. He was obsessed with this idea that he could fly. He didn't do pretend. His fantasy life was so bullet proof I think he inspired in me a belief that I could be anything too. I was the younger, cute baby brother . I guess you could call me Krytonite because my brother was jealous of the attention I garnered. He felt it weakened him. I didn't feel the same way about him. I looked up to him and I could occasionally enter his fantasy life. He would let me be his sidekick as long as I didn't fly too close.

Later in our childhood we would lie in bed on hot summer nights. We would do, what we called, late night talk shows. We would talk about EVERYTHING but especially the idea that there were millions of stars and that those stars had planets circling them and that one of those planets was like our own and there were two alien kids laying in bed having their own alien late night talk show.
My inner imaginative writer life was not born on paper, but lying on my bed on those hot summer nights as the crickets chirp, chirp, chirped and the fireflys flickered in the blackness.


.

[Jim Peden]

I had two: Jim Corder and Lisle Kendall, both at T.C.U. They co-authored a popular college rhetoric of the day. "Dr. Jim" was my first year English prof, a right tolerant fellow who allowed me to write in my own style ( unlike the nightmare experience I had in High School ). I once wrote a critical essay criticizing a particular advanced mathematics development in my Differential Equations text. My grade came back a strange symbol I didn't understand. Dr. Jim explained, "You paper was Greek to me, so I thought I'd use a foreign grade in return. It was a Cyrillic "A".

2nd year I had Dr. Kendall... older than Dr. Jim and with a different style. A paper I wrote commenting on Dante's Inferno intrigued him and he asked my permission to forward it to a colleague with whom he had been having a "debate" on the subject. Seems my paper supported his opponent's view, and he was honor bound to share it. Stand-up guy.

I loved them both. My writing blossomed with the petals and fragrance only possible under a mentor who accepted every student as a unique vision of the world around them. Having failed High School English 2 semesters in a row ( behavior, not academic problems ), I was delighted to rack up 4 straight A's in undergraduate school under these great teachers.

[Sue]

My reading and writing mentor was my dad. The first thing I remember reading was the Latin Mass. I had no idea what it said, but the priest spoke so slowly that I could point to the Latin words with my finger . Et-cum-spirit- two-two-0. (et cum spiritu tuo) In elementary school we thought that was the Holy Ghost's phone number. Once I learned to read Latin it was only a slight leap to Dr. Seuss. Right after that I discovered I could make marks on a page. They didn’t make any sense, but hey it was the 60’s. Nothing made sense.

[Elizabeth Pavone]

My mom. Growing up in Philly, one of the public libraries was right around the corner. I was one of the few lucky kids in the neighborhood whose mother loved to read. We made several trips to the library a week. I loved the old building, the smell of the books, the icy cold water fountain, and the marble outside steps...they even stayed cool in the summertime! By the time I was old enough to be on my own in the neighborhood...I was hooked. Favorite book, read right on those library steps...A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith.

My grandmother was also a huge influence. She only completed maybe eigth grade, but what a letter writer! And...her vocabulary was never shabby. She wrote as if she were speaking right to you. Sometimes her sister, Aunt Helen, the artist, would even add an illustration of the three sisters' latest antics! Their third sister was my Aunt Mary...the oldest.

[Judy Jester]

I love how wide-ranging our responses are, and I'd forgotten to mention the role of my parents. My mom like Liz's took us to the library on a regular basis, and my dad was an avid story-teller and lover of rhetoric. Those of you who know me will not be surprised by that.

By the way, did you know you can get a library card to the Library of Congress? I got one last week. As Gaetan likes to say, easy peasy, lemon-squeezy.

Judy

[Gaetan Pappalardo]

I learned to write in my room. I'm sad to say that schooling (K-12)had nothing much to do with it. I think that's why I'm on a mission. I don't want my students to say the same thing I just did twenty years from now. My mission can be harsh at times, and even get me in trouble, but I keep telling myself it's for them, for my students.

My mom had a lot to do with my early writing thoughts and my dad built my mental toughness. I didn't do much of the literal writing, it was all in my head. My mom never said no to whatever I wanted to do, no matter how silly. I remember creating huge Star Wars battle scenes in the basement, filming backyard invasions, and molding Matchbox neighborhoods from the soil in the woods. My fantasy life honed my creativity. My sporting life with my dad sharpened my confidence as a human being. It sounds like my mom and dad are divorced, but they're not. They're just two very different people. I will never forget what my dad always told me (and still does) "It doesn't matter how big you are. The size of your heart is what matters." Those words rattle around in my brain whenever the going gets tough.

I think mentors are just mentors. They don't have to be a specific type, such as a writing mentor or a sports figure. Mentors inspire passion with passion; kind of let you be you, just a little juiced up.

[Barry Lane]

I agree G,

A mentor is a mentor and if you are a writer you will be influenced by them. My father never wrote much except silly poems at work when someone retired, but he would spend hours writing and reciting these poems to us at home. In his mind he was Dante or Virgil of the work place. People loved his poetry for it's inside jokes and bawdy innuendos involving shafts and rotors, (the company made fan motors for military planes). He always printed in all capital letters. He grew up in the streets of NY and never learned to write in cursive. He never wrote on full size paper but on half sheets the long way.

It was not till years later, after I had returned to college after dropping out, that I realized that in another time, my dad could have aspired to a career as a writer. His hobby could have been his life if he had grown up in my decade. Having said that I can tell you that my parents never understood my refusal to get a real job and all my travels around the world.

It was only after my first book was published that a change came. I still remember. It was a hot summer day and my father sat out on the porch where he loved to read. I had given him the hard cover edition of the book in the morning and he had sat there all day reading, making very little noise. What I remember most was this feeling of absolute joy I had in the pit of my stomach. My father was reading my book. Not the newspaper, (the only other thing he read) but MY book.
It was the only book he ever read. When he finished I don't remember exactly what he said but it was something like. "Now I finally understand why you dropped out of college and did all that traveling. You are a writer."
This was a perfect day. His reading that book meant more to me than anything in the world. That's what mentors do. That's what mentors are.

Leonard Lane with my big bro Michael





Gaetan Pappalardo said:

I learned to write in my room. I'm sad to say that schooling (K-12)had nothing much to do with it. I think that's why I'm on a mission. I don't want my students to say the same thing I just did twenty years from now. My mission can be harsh at times, and even get me in trouble, but I keep telling myself it's for them, for my students.
My mom had a lot to do with my early writing thoughts and my dad built my mental toughness. I didn't do much of the literal writing, it was all in my head. My mom never said no to whatever I wanted to do, no matter how silly. I remember creating huge Star Wars battle scenes in the basement, filming backyard invasions, and molding Matchbox neighborhoods from the soil in the woods. My fantasy life honed my creativity. My sporting life with my dad sharpened my confidence as a human being. It sounds like my mom and dad are divorced, but they're not. They're just two very different people. I will never forget what my dad always told me (and still does) "It doesn't matter how big you are. The size of your heart is what matters." Those words rattle around in my brain whenever the going gets tough. I think mentors are just mentors. They don't have to be a specific type, such as a writing mentor or a sports figure. Mentors inspire passion with passion; kind of let you be you, just a little juiced up.

[Sue]

Yeah Elizabeth! The Philadelphia Public Libraries are the secret of the city. I had to attend one of the Local Meetings to respond to Mayor Nutter's budget cuts. The Library and the Department of Recreation created me... A Happy Ending. I still remember finding the children's section and thinking - I am home. Thanks for sharing your memory. I'm glad there's more than one of me.

Elizabeth Pavone said:

My mom. Growing up in Philly, one of the public libraries was right around the corner. I was one of the few lucky kids in the neighborhood whose mother loved to read. We made several trips to the library a week. I loved the old building, the smell of the books, the icy cold water fountain, and the marble outside steps...they even stayed cool in the summertime! By the time I was old enough to be on my own in the neighborhood...I was hooked. Favorite book, read right on those library steps...A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith.

My grandmother was also a huge influence. She only completed maybe eigth grade, but what a letter writer! And...her vocabulary was never shabby. She wrote as if she were speaking right to you. Sometimes her sister, Aunt Helen, the artist, would even add an illustration of the three sisters' latest antics! Their third sister was my Aunt Mary...the oldest.

[Sue]

Wow! You are soooo right. My mentors are not just writing mentors, they are life mentors. The people who listen.


Barry Lane said:

I agree G,

A mentor is a mentor and if you are a writer you will be influenced by them. My father never wrote much except silly poems at work when someone retired, but he would spend hours writing and reciting these poems to us at home. In his mind he was Dante or Virgil of the work place. People loved his poetry for it's inside jokes and bawdy innuendos involving shafts and rotors, (the company made fan motors for military planes). He always printed in all capital letters. He grew up in the streets of NY and never learned to write in cursive. He never wrote on full size paper but on half sheets the long way.

It was not till years later, after I had returned to college after dropping out, that I realized that in another time, my dad could have aspired to a career as a writer. His hobby could have been his life if he had grown up in my decade. Having said that I can tell you that my parents never understood my refusal to get a real job and all my travels around the world.

It was only after my first book was published that a change came. I still remember. It was a hot summer day and my father sat out on the porch where he loved to read. I had given him the hard cover edition of the book in the morning and he had sat there all day reading, making very little noise. What I remember most was this feeling of absolute joy I had in the pit of my stomach. My father was reading my book. Not the newspaper, (the only other thing he read) but MY book.
It was the only book he ever read. When he finished I don't remember exactly what he said but it was something like. "Now I finally understand why you dropped out of college and did all that traveling. You are a writer."
This was a perfect day. His reading that book meant more to me than anything in the world. That's what mentors do. That's what mentors are.

Leonard Lane with my big bro Michael





Gaetan Pappalardo said:

I learned to write in my room. I'm sad to say that schooling (K-12)had nothing much to do with it. I think that's why I'm on a mission. I don't want my students to say the same thing I just did twenty years from now. My mission can be harsh at times, and even get me in trouble, but I keep telling myself it's for them, for my students.
My mom had a lot to do with my early writing thoughts and my dad built my mental toughness. I didn't do much of the literal writing, it was all in my head. My mom never said no to whatever I wanted to do, no matter how silly. I remember creating huge Star Wars battle scenes in the basement, filming backyard invasions, and molding Matchbox neighborhoods from the soil in the woods. My fantasy life honed my creativity. My sporting life with my dad sharpened my confidence as a human being. It sounds like my mom and dad are divorced, but they're not. They're just two very different people. I will never forget what my dad always told me (and still does) "It doesn't matter how big you are. The size of your heart is what matters." Those words rattle around in my brain whenever the going gets tough. I think mentors are just mentors. They don't have to be a specific type, such as a writing mentor or a sports figure. Mentors inspire passion with passion; kind of let you be you, just a little juiced up.

[Barbara Ehrentreu]

My very first writing mentor was my third grade teacher Mrs. Parisi. She believed that I could write and she helped me believe in my own writing. I had a poem published in the school district's newspaper that I wrote in her class. My mother kept it in her wallet her whole life.:)

One other person was my writing mentor when I got a little older, Paula Danziger, who was my workshop leader for a week of a children's writing workshop. She helped me to begin my first novel and she taught me so many things about the craft of writing.:)

[Renae Salisbury]

Actually, "the devil made me do it!" As I youngster, I clamored for attention from the adults in my life - teachers, parents, grandparents, etc. Thinking my childhood devoid of adventure, I created my own and passed on the fictional details as truths. I clearly remember walking home from school and pondering what exciting story I could tell my mom and dad. I recall passing a yard filled with golden dandelions and a small horse pasture that neighbored it. The story started with a wonder: "I wonder what would happen if a man came out of that house and asked me to pick all those dandelions, and what if he said he would give me a pony if I would do that!"

Of course that led to a black lie with the added ending that I sadly refused because my mom expected me to come home directly after school. (These days a child would include that it wouldn't be safe to respond to a stranger's bidding. My world in Pocatello, Idaho was much safer than my grandchildren's world today. So sad.)

Anyway, my mind constantly reeled with ideas and stories, some of which turned into little plays that I forced my sister and cousins to perform on holidays. Sometimes we dramatized other authors' stories for our moms, dads, grandparents, and cousins - the ones too embarrassed to participate in the play.

None of these performances included a written script - that came later in high school. My drama class wanted to perform a Christmas play for the neighboring elementary schools, but we could not find a script we liked that was short enough and that needed 15 characters. I told my drama coach about a favorite story I retold as a second-grader performing in Mrs. Quidor's Little Theater. I included how we could adapt it for our needs. He encouraged me to write up the script; I did, and we performed the delightful "playlet" for scores of children, including those from my alma mater Lewis and Clark Elementary. That was the first time I was praised for my writing!

[Joan Carnosso]

Believe it or not I have made it to 50 years old deathly afraid to write anything. Last summer I was in the Boise State Writing Project. When I signed up I really was not sure what it really was about. The only thing I knew is that I wanted to be able to write and not be afraid to look at it. So on the opening night we had to respond in writing to a prompt. I believe it was "Who was the teacher that influenced you the most". I was a good student and promptly complied and wrote the paragraph. Then they said "OK, now everyone share what they wrote with the people in your writing circle". I truly believed I was going to fall over and have a heart attack. This would not have been good since I was the only nurse in the room.
Well a member of this Ning, Dianne Ruxton looked at me with her piercing blue eyes and said firmly "Go ahead you can do it." So I tried to look half way confident and I read what I wrote. Everyone at the table was so supportive and actually told me they liked the piece. I choose to believe them. Since that day I have shared more and more of what I write. I write daily and of course it is not always significant but it is always fun.
I owe Dianne for giving me that push and then smiling at me when I was done.
Joan