Note: 94% of the class was composed of education or creative writing majors. I was neither. I had no real knowledge of writing solid lesson plans, nor had I been working on the next great American YA novel.
You can imagine my distress. I think we had something like two weeks before the assignment was due, and I figured I'd have better luck writing a story than writing lesson plans, but I still had no idea what to write about. The first week passed, and I had rejected many half-formed ideas as being boring and trite. I wanted something unique and worth reading, but I didn't have the luxury of time. I remembered hearing/reading the advice to write about what you know. Wracking my brain, I thought about what I knew. I knew there were a lot of dystopian novels on the market, so I didn't want to go that route. After talking with my grandma on the phone, I realized I knew a lot of stories from her life growing up, and she has lived through some of the biggest advancements in recent history. Thus, she became my inspiration. I figured at the very least, I could make a fictional story incorporating her real stories for her and my family.
I was on a roll with my research for the overall story; I felt good about what would happen, how it would happen, and everything. I got stuck, though, on how to start. That was the most important bit, however, for my immediate needs. I had an assignment to turn in. I ended up writing a storyboard to accompany the first chapter, and explained how I spent my time completing the assignment. Thankfully, my teacher understood. Writing is not easy.
Sadly, being a student, this project fell by the wayside after I turned it in, though it would not be forgotten. It has been tickling the back of my mind at odd times through the years. Why pick it up again now? Because I miss my grandma.
She was born on January 13, 1921. She lived in a world so foreign to the one we know today. It was the time before everyone had cars or electricity, much less smart phones and internet. She went from being a girl driving a team of horses to a woman watching them send man to the moon; corresponding primarily through letters to incredulously Skyping her grandkids and great-grandkids (with the help from the younger generations, of course). The stories she told, that she thought nothing of, amazed me. I could listen to them all day. She passed away October 4, 2016--a little more than a month ago, at the age of 95. What a testament to her amazing life, that she remained at home, mobile, and lucid, up until the very sudden end. Her husband of over 60 years, and my grandpa, passed away 10 years ago, and she often cursed him for leaving her. Tuesday is their wedding anniversary, and coincidentally also the day that she will be laid to rest atop him at Arlington National Cemetery.
While I can't sit and chat with her like I used to, I can remember her as I write.
This is very much still a work in progress, but I wanted to do something with her stories. I hope that by putting this online I will take more opportunities to write.
Rivet City
Having grown up in the Great Depression, seventeen-year old Helen
never really understood what it was all about until she left her farm life
behind to seek adventure in the big city with her best friend, Aileen. Seeing
the struggles of city folk first hand, she realized there were bigger worries
than the rain, especially when headlines read “JAPS BOMB HAWAII” and “U.S.
Declares State of War.” Together they
join the fight for freedom as machine operators in a U.S. bomber plant.
A story of the
original Rosies.
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