When I was a wee lad, I knew that I wanted to be a writer "when I grow up." Some kids wanted all the coolest toys for Christmas (heck, I did too), but I was tickled pink just getting a big box of (dot matrix printer) paper. The pages were perfectly lined, so my chubby little hands could write out all my thoughts and dreams out on paper. My imagination frequently ran wild and I thought it would be so cool to get to share my stories with the world. Not only would I get to share those stories, I'd get paid for it. I'd be like Oklahoma's own Dr. Seuss, minus all the weird rhyme-y shit. People would be buying up boxes of John Cloud's novels left and right, and I'd be making bazillions of dollars. I'd probably even have enough money for my very own Kraft Mac & Cheese fountain.
As I began to mature (at least a little) and I realized that the best way for my world to get used to my writing would be through journalism. In the ninth grade, I decided to join the school newspaper staff. As an up-and-coming writer for "The Paw Print," I was responsible for covering such hot topics as "cool locker decorating trends" and "the dangers of walking down Penn to the McDonald's after school." Ya know, the important stuff. I was absolutely hooked from the start. It was a great outlet for my writing, the teacher was super supportive and helped me grow in my writing and it was a great outlet for me to get out there and meet people. My newfound career continued into High School, when I joined the "Jag Wire" staff at Westmoore High School. I won over the notoriously strict teacher and convinced her to love me. Of course, by the time I was a senior, I became the editor-in-chief. I'm still not quite sure how that happened...
When I started thinking about colleges, I set my sights on the big time... I wanted to go to Columbia University, which was VERY well known for it's college of journalism. I'd settle on Oklahoma, which also had a pretty good journalism program. I started out tiny, though, and started with Oklahoma City Community College. I had a few professors who were actual journalists on local news outlets. My first impression of "real" journalism was less than flattering. For whatever reason, the work became ten times as hard and I was given some not-so-positive advice on how to "make it" in the field. While my love for writing still existed, my deep love for journalism quickly faded. With stuff like "you have to work twice as hard if you're doing an honest job" or "if it bleeds it leads," it just wasn't my thing. I finished that semester at OCCC and decided I would make the job to OU.
It didn't seem so devastating back then, but when I look back on it now, I really felt like a ship without a rudder. I didn't know what I was going to do or who I was. I was very fortunate that I found the Liberal Studies program at OU, which was pretty much a "general education" degree. It was something I could build off of when I decided what I wanted to be "when I grow up."
My time as an undergraduate at OU was definitely rocky. The alcoholism, of course, played a huge part in that. But I've been thinking here lately, that not having any clear goals or big dreams to work towards probably played some part in the lack of drive to keep going. It is REALLY difficult to put that one foot in front of the other, when you have no idea what you're walking towards or what the end game is supposed to be. There was some sort of blind faith at work there, because I had to keep telling myself to keep at it, that SOMETHING would happen. I'd see that light bulb or have that burning bush moment at some point. I was REALLY starting to doubt it at the end, but luckily it happened just in time.
So, while my exact dreams of being THAT type of writer might not be exactly what's happened, I still have plenty of opportunities to write in my future. Maybe I'll write some sort of groundbreaking book on social work or something like that. Until then, this little bloggy blog... my own little corner of the world will have to do.
