Memory's Vault, Vol 1: On Being a Rather "Wooden and Pedantic" Writer

It's funny how most people carry certain "core memories" with them through life, and even though those old memories might be of what seem like relatively insignificant events, they end up leaving a permanent stamp on our psyches... which, in turn, can end up shaping our entire lives.

Of course, different people have different reactions to such basic memories.

Black Swallowtail butterfly on our lavender

Some become perpetual victims of them; some go to great length to prove "it didn't matter" by engaging in an endless series of "proofs" that they are "over it," thereby proving that they are actually far from over it... and — of course — some just stick their heads in the sand and "pretend" that they've forgotten, even while their frequent knee-jerk reactions are merely "replays" of those formative experiences.

"Memory's Vault" is intended to be an ongoing exploration of such memories and their impact... related through "Personal Creative Essays.'

I'm 13, and it's English Composition Class...

At this point — at least where I went to school — we had reached the point where writing/composition was moving from very structured "set pieces" to more creative freedom and individual control over the structure of our writing. We got to start writing essays.

Unlike many of my classmates, I actually felt pretty good about this, because I had been journaling since I was maybe eleven (yes, I spent FAR too much time alone!), and was pretty comfortable with simply writing out my thoughts and feelings as they happened.

And so, I also felt pretty good about my work when we got to write our first "personal essay" of the new term. And I felt hopeful that I would get a good grade and some encouraging words from our English teacher, after handing it in.

Red poppies in bloom

What I was not prepared for was to get back my paper (which I felt was) filled with soul and creative genius, liberally bleeding large amounts of red ink everywhere.

At the top of the page, next to the "B-" were the words

"Fair effort, but rather wooden and pedantic"

I actually had to find a dictionary and look up "pedantic."

Pedantic means "like a pedant," someone who's too concerned with literal accuracy or formality. It's a negative term that implies someone is showing off book learning or trivia, especially in a tiresome way.

Funny thing is, I don't even remember what the essay was about, other than something to do with our extensive travels when I was little... but I definitely remembered that feeling of having been crushed.

Pink rose, about to unfold

Examining the Takeaway and Learning

With 40+ years of hindsight, I can now make some observations I now feel pretty certain to be true:

1. Although I clearly remember the moment and the phrase, I was not put off from writing. I have been writing — pretty much unabated — ever since.

2. What I did get somewhat "put off" was writing to share with others. My writing from that point forward became a very "private" thing for me. It was a good 20+ years before I voluntarily shared any writing, other than as structured "assignments."

3. Perhaps my essay really WAS "wooden and pedantic" because I had grown up in an environment where you (and CHILDREN especially!) damn better have all your facts and figures lined up before you as much as uttered a single word in the company of adults. The descriptive essay of our travels was no doubt fact-filled but probably lacked color and nuance.

4. My "Pedantic" accuracy has been reflected in many aspects of my life, for decades. Coming from a background where people were typically unpredictable, unreliable and often absent, facts and numbers were often the only "safety" and "known" I could cling to, in my world. But unlike a true "Pedant," this reliance on "cold hard facts" was more of a defense mechanism born of fear than pretentiousness.

Again, it may look — on the surface — as a very superficial thing; yet I have carried the memory around for 45 years, and it has shaped a number of choices.

This is, alas, what we do with some of our childhood experiences... and they often mark us far more than we're willing to admit! And so, they are often at the heart of why we find ourselves in therapy, in mid life, and sometimes later.

Thanks for reading!

(Another #creativecoin creative non-fiction post)

Do you have any "strong memories" of childhood events, that you NOW know shaped your life? A thing that happened? Some words that were spoken? Comments, feedback and other interaction is invited and welcomed! Because — after all — SOCIAL content is about interacting, right? Leave a comment-- share your experiences-- be part of the conversation!

(As usual, all text and images by the author, unless otherwise credited. This is original content, created expressly for this platform.)
Created at 190814 12:1 PDT
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