We all love helping criticism. Don't we? I know it hurts us in the insides but it helps us in what ever craft we excel in or in some cases flunk in. My case is the definition for defiantly and definitely. I signed my dad up to get email subscriptions to my blog. To my surprise when he was working on his his model airplane because he is geek for anything that requires a remote control other than the television. My little sister Tabbetha is the one who is addicted to the T.V.
So he was working on something with his airplane and he doesn't even look up at me. His eyes were solely intent on fixing whatever was wrong with that certain plane at the moment. I thought he was going to ignore me. "Nice review on The Moon Coin, today." he had said. I remember I was smiling with delight. "Why thank you! If you feel the need to read it also I have it on one of my nooks." He had just smirked at me and and looked up with that sarcastic look that everyone said passed down to me. "Does that mean I can throttle you, also? I may do it next time you try to look like you are an excelling individual and you sound drastically too verbose and your plot is unorganized when you write."
Then I rolled to the ground laughing. He looked down at me and said, "Where did I go wrong? Maya calls people Chicken Buttys. Tabby can't pick up a book for her life. And you, your smart but have something in your brain that slows you down."
Then we had my first draft of my Junior Beta essay. I worked for 3 hours getting the first 2 paragraphs. You know what response my Daddy gave to me after reading it for no longer than 4 minutes? " This is god-awful. Its one of the worst things you have ever written." My eyes soon filled to the rim with tears. I had laid on Momma's bed for half an hour sobbing that my Dad had said my writing is terrible. That I won't write the essay. I won't turn it in. Mrs. Olivia could find someone else. Then my dad made me suck it up and re write it. Through 10 drafts of that darn essay. My dad was there with as he would establish himself, the only smart one in the family, with very few compliments. Good things come from that. I learned from his meanness that I could improve my craft and maybe even win!
So yes my daddy, who is probably reading this. You have made me cry over this blog and writing but I really appreciate the meaness. You are one of the people who started me off on what I could do. Oh and the main characters Daddy were Joseph and Tim and it went like this: I looked into Josephs eyes and his muscled were rigid under his burlap shirt. My heart learched the words that it had been holding since the frail times of childhood." I love you, Joseph. I have loved and loved you since the begging of your life rather your heart knew it. I am your forever soul mate."
((Note to dad: See that excerpt. My writing has improved majorly.))
So he was working on something with his airplane and he doesn't even look up at me. His eyes were solely intent on fixing whatever was wrong with that certain plane at the moment. I thought he was going to ignore me. "Nice review on The Moon Coin, today." he had said. I remember I was smiling with delight. "Why thank you! If you feel the need to read it also I have it on one of my nooks." He had just smirked at me and and looked up with that sarcastic look that everyone said passed down to me. "Does that mean I can throttle you, also? I may do it next time you try to look like you are an excelling individual and you sound drastically too verbose and your plot is unorganized when you write."
Then I rolled to the ground laughing. He looked down at me and said, "Where did I go wrong? Maya calls people Chicken Buttys. Tabby can't pick up a book for her life. And you, your smart but have something in your brain that slows you down."
Then we had my first draft of my Junior Beta essay. I worked for 3 hours getting the first 2 paragraphs. You know what response my Daddy gave to me after reading it for no longer than 4 minutes? " This is god-awful. Its one of the worst things you have ever written." My eyes soon filled to the rim with tears. I had laid on Momma's bed for half an hour sobbing that my Dad had said my writing is terrible. That I won't write the essay. I won't turn it in. Mrs. Olivia could find someone else. Then my dad made me suck it up and re write it. Through 10 drafts of that darn essay. My dad was there with as he would establish himself, the only smart one in the family, with very few compliments. Good things come from that. I learned from his meanness that I could improve my craft and maybe even win!
So yes my daddy, who is probably reading this. You have made me cry over this blog and writing but I really appreciate the meaness. You are one of the people who started me off on what I could do. Oh and the main characters Daddy were Joseph and Tim and it went like this: I looked into Josephs eyes and his muscled were rigid under his burlap shirt. My heart learched the words that it had been holding since the frail times of childhood." I love you, Joseph. I have loved and loved you since the begging of your life rather your heart knew it. I am your forever soul mate."
((Note to dad: See that excerpt. My writing has improved majorly.))
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