Why I Hated GCSE English at School

Hi all!

This is a sort of part two to last week's post about why I didn't do a creative writing degree. Before I start I just want to say good luck to everyone on the last push for NaNoWriMo!

Anyway, on with the story.

I didn't always hate English, it was only when I got to secondary school in the middle of year ten (that's fifteen years old for anyone confused). I had a lovely teacher who was funny and tried to make the classes interesting for us.

Then she left.

Her replacement did not like me. As a quiet kid, I used to just keep my head down and get on with the work, but that was terrible according to her. She loved the loud kids who always disrupted the class but absolutely despised anyone who never spoke.

Because of my anxiety, I was the biggest target in the class.

It started off small, with her giving me the occasional glare as I sat in the front row (because she wanted to keep an eye on me). Eventually she moved me further back because she found me 'too self centered' to put my hand up.

Pretty soon it evolved to her picking on me in class and picking apart any answer I gave, which did absolutely nothing for my anxiety and only heightened my depression because I thought I was stupid.

At some point though, she decided to step it up a notch. She thought none of us could spell so she started setting spelling tests in class. I knew how to spell pretty well, so it didn't worry me too much. 

Then she marked it.

She would deliberately mark my correct spellings as incorrect and write the same word next to my correctly spelt one. I thought it was my handwriting, so I wrote them in capital letters so she could read them properly.

Nope.

She marked my correctly spelled word as wrong, and wrote the incorrect spelling next to it. It really irked me to see that I was getting dragged down because of it. I checked my friend's spellings, and she spelled it the same as me and got marked right. So the teacher knew the correct spelling, knew I had done it correctly, but penalised me anyway.

I wasn't happy, but my mum refused to complain and told me to suck it up.

So, I did.

The next big thing was when we had to create a PowerPoint and present it in front of the class. I was terrified.

We had to talk about one of our hobbies, and I chose writing. Throughout my entire presentation she ignored the people talking over me and kept snapping at me to get in view of he camera (they had to be recorded for some reason). Once I was finished she tapped the table impatiently as she waited for the other teacher to give me a score. I got a B which I thought was great, until they mentioned that the teacher decided to mark me down because of my nervous mannerisms. I usually touch my hair a lot and stutter when I present in front of people, and she decided that was bad enough to mark me down. No one else got marked down for being nervous.

Another incident happened when we had to do a group project, which would be part of our overall grade as well. Like I said in the last post, no one really liked having me in their group so I just got stuck with whoever. To get the grade we had to discuss a topic and write notes on it, it was to test our speaking and listening skills.

So, as soon as I joined the group, the other members kicked off when they found out we would all get graded the same, no matter who displayed more skills. I really, really tried to speak as much as I could but I was just so nervous and everyone else kept ignoring me or speaking over me. We all got Cs, which I was pretty happy with because I passed. The others in my group were the A and A* lot, so they were not happy to get a C.

I could see from the absolute look of disgust on their faces that they weren't happy. When the grades were announced the teacher let us chat for a bit, which meant that my group were just talking smack about how useless I was and I was ruining their future. 

I wanted to cry.

The teacher saw this going on, and encouraged them. She went over and apologised that I had dragged them down and she would be having words with me. She told them not worry however, because people like me always end up working for people like them so they'd get the last laugh.

Somehow I managed to last another year in that class before a light appeared at the end of the tunnel: the creative writing exam. 

I was ecstatic.

I couldn't wait to actually enjoy an exam for once, and practice my writing while I was at it.

Of course, she had to ruin it somehow. First she told me that you should never, ever describe a character. Apparently the reader doesn't care. I knew that was a load of crap and described them anyway. She tore me apart in front of the whole class for daring to describe one of my characters as having dark skin. Some people called me racist for including that character as the teacher told them that you can only write characters the same skin colour as you or you're racist.

Second, I didn't know what a semicolon was. She jumped on that in no time, she convinced me that semicolons are to be used in every sentence instead of commas. This confused the hell out of me and I replaced all commas with semicolons. Looking back I think I'm so stupid for listening, because it cost me a few extra marks.

Anyway, once my GCSEs were done I decided that I was not going to allow myself to be treated like that in such a hostile environment. She ruined my favourite subject for me, I just couldn't do it any further. I did not want to get ridiculed by someone like her again.

So I didn't do it at A Level, instead I chose subjects that made me happy.

I don't regret it, because I was a little bit more relaxed in these subjects and I was treated better.

Anyway, sorry for another depressing story but I think it's important that people realise that the tiniest actions can have huge consequences. Especially on teenagers. Be kind and encourage them, don't bring them down.

I haven't decided on a subject for next week so keep your eyes peeled!

Why I Didn't Do A Creative Writing Degree

Hi all!

This week's post is about why I didn't go to university and do creative writing, it's another personal story which goes into a bit more depth about my mental health when I was younger.

I didn't really know what I wanted to do after finishing school so I decided to go on to do my A Levels. I chose Georgraphy, History and Philosophy and Ethics because I really enjoyed learning about them with my GCSEs. Once I was into my second year of that I was puzzled as to what I wanted to do. I was too scared to go straight into work, as I thought no-one would hire me due to my anxiety. But I was also afraid of going to university because I hadn't been treated the best at school and I didn't want another three years of misery.

After scrolling through universities I found a course that I might be able to do near where I lived: Creative Writing. The best part is, it was 100% writing, no English A Level required! (I hated English in school and there's a pretty big reason why I didn't pursue it further - but that's a different story).

They had an open day coming up, so timid seventeen year old me signed up.

Big mistake.

On the day of the open day I went to register, and to my horror, the day before they changed the course. It's now Creative Writing AND English.

Strike one.

Reluctantly I proceed to the talk with my mother in tow (I brought her for emotional support because in was so anxious). Once I got in the room, there were two other people there, both looking to pursue a career in writing.

They were a lot more confident than me, asking questions and talking about their writing throughout the talk. The talk consisted of a PowerPoint with modules of the course. They mostly encouraged writing of crime, thriller, mystery, literary and women's fiction. When asked about fantasy, sci-fi and horror (my favourite genres) we were told that they were dying out so there's not much point learning about them.

Strike two.

At the end, they decided to go round the room to talk about our writing. I can't remember exactly what the other two said just because I was so scared to speak. When it was my turn, I managed to blurt out that I wrote a book: Blood and Water, unnamed at the time. The lecturers were intrigued, asking about how many words I wrote and how long it took me. They were disappointed to learn it was fantasy, but were willing to overlook it because I committed to writing a book.

The other two on the course did not like that.

The other girl, same age as me, brought the attention back to herself by casually throwing out there that she was writing her THIRD book, which she had 'forgotten' to mention before. Everyone was sucked into her little story, but I wasn't buying it. We're all in the same boat, there's no need for authors to compete with each other, especially by lying.

Strike three.

At the end of the talk the lecturer made us hand over our email addresses so she could add us to her mailing list.

Strike four.

She then recommended we do some reading to get a one up on everyone else applying: her books. We were also told to leave reviews (most likely positive).

Strike five.

On the ride home, after having a panic attack, I decided not to apply for university. Especially after the dirty looks the other two had given me upon learning that I had written a book at seventeen. I didn't want to spend another three years being isolated by my peers and frightened of my lecturers. I didn't want to participate in group projects anymore, as they were my worst fear. In school no-one wanted me in their groups so I had to wait until everyone had picked groups to ask the teacher to put me in one. After the inevitable kick off from the group I would be left to work by myself while they ignored me. I knew at university the lecturers would leave me to sort it out on my own, but with the poor state of my mental health I needed more support.

I also didn't want my alopecia to flare up anymore than it already had. It didn't help that the teachers didn't really care what I did, my career advisor ignored my emails after a while and the head of sixth form read everyone else's university applications but mine. I decided that the world was against me and floated through the rest of the year.

Of course, it all worked out in the end! I did a fantastic apprenticeship for a year and I still work there full time now! I don't regret my decision at all.

Next week I'll talk about why I hated the English subject when I was in school, as a sort of part two to this post.

See you next week!

Why I Write

Hi all! 

This is my first of (hopefully many!) blog posts that I will post into my site. I will talk about my writing, announcements, tips and tricks etc. so please keep your eyes peeled.

Seeing as this is my first post I will talk about why I chose to write. If you've had a look through my about page you'll see that I mainly write YA Fantasy. I love fantasy, it's so easy to escape from reality for a few hours and read about teenagers having adventures across dangerous lands and battling ferocious beasts.

But that's not the only reason I aim my writing at teenagers.

When I was a teenager, books were my only escape. At school I was isolated and no-one really spoke to me because of my shyness. I'd spend my breaks walking aimlessly in the hallways because I had no one to talk to. Most days I'd just wander around trying to hold back the tears.

But, books made me forget about that.

I wasn't just the lonely quiet girl in a book, I could be anything!

I desperately wished that I would just get sucked into a book and go on adventures and have a stable friendship group.

Although I was always a shy and anxious girl, those years made me depressed. Of course, no one believed me until I was nineteen.

They called me a liar, attention seeking, worthless and told me to kill myself.

Books were my only outlet.

Although I had written a few short stories when I was young I didn't really think I was capable of writing a book. When I hit seventeen, I thought I'd give it a try.

In three months, the first draft of Blood and Water was done.

It had no name, several plot holes and a lot of grammar issues but I was over the moon.

It inspired me because I thought about all the other teenagers that were going through what I went through. Anxiety and depression with no help and no compassion.

So that's why I'm writing, for them.

Books can keep people alive, they make them believe they can be anything. As a teenager, you need that to get through until someone finally believes you.

Three doctors later, I was finally listened to and I am now a lot happier than I was.

A lot of people still think I'm lying and want to bring me down. That's why I waited four years before I even started querying, I was afraid that those people would come back to haunt me. I was terrified that my readers would believe them over me. Now that I'm self publishing, the thoughts became even worse. It would just take one nasty person to start hurling accusations that could ruin my writing career before it even started.

But, I have now reached the point where I'm not going to let them hold me back. This is my dream, the one thing I'm good at. Why should they be the ones to take it away? 

So while currently I'm focusing on YA in the form of Blood and Water and Nirvana, I am open to New Adult and Adult so maybe I'll write a book for them too!

Right now, I'm focusing on the people who I think need it the most. I've written the book that I needed when I was their age. I just hope that my work can help one person, no matter their age, and help them get through the dark times.

Thank you for reading, I hope you'll stick around! Next week I'm going to talk about mailing lists and the pros and cons of setting one up.