I don’t remember every detail, but I’ll never forget how I felt.
I was in 9th grade when my class held a writing competition. The assignment was simple. We were supposed to write a story, and the best ones would be turned into a play. I think five stories were chosen.
I was so excited.
At that point, I was still new to writing. I didn’t know anything about tropes, structure, or outlining. I just had an idea and a lot of imagination. So I wrote a story about a psychologist and her patient. A girl dealing with trauma, trying to heal through therapy. Looking back now, it was probably a bit intense for my level. Can you believe that I wrote down that the patient went crazy and the psychologist had to slap her… Like what the heck?
which psychologist does that. Lol, anyway
I poured everything into it.
I really thought I had a chance.
But I didn’t win.
Our class went to see the play, where the winning stories were brought to life on stage. And honestly? It was amazing.
One story was about a couple stuck in an elevator.
Another was about an ex-couple reconnecting on a dating app without realizing they were talking to each other.
Another explored someone coming out and embracing who they truly are.
Their stories were creative, emotional, and honestly… really good.
And mine?
Let’s just say… it had potential 😅
But here’s the thing I’ve realized now, years later:
Even though I didn’t win… I created something.
At 15 years old, I sat down and built a story from nothing. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I did it anyway. And that matters more than I understood back then.