It was in the 7th grade that I finally understood what a verb was. "An action word" said Sister Mary Jose. For all my six previous years of parochial school, English was my worst subject. I just didn't get it. When I was called on in class, I would just guess at the answer. I rarely raised my hand. All those parts of the speech: verbs, adverbs, prepositions, conjunctions - what was I suppose to do with them? And getting the subject and the verb to match! I was more interested in diagramming sentences....even at an very early age I was an artist. I liked dissecting the sentences with all those diagonal lines. Spelling was easy if the word looked right. So I thought I couldn't do it. At least, I couldn't do it according to the parochial curriculum.
And then one day, I started writing. The words moved and flowed, and the stories came together. My fingers danced on the keyboard. All the events of my life that needed to be told were bottled up in my soul, and then they just came gushing out. Not always in complete sentences. Sometime with misspelled words. I don't always get my quotation marks in the right spot. But the dangling participles that have been hanging on the tip of my tongue for so long, have finally found their homepage.
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