Hi, I'm Ian. I'm a writer. I never knew anything until I learned it.
When I was in sixth grade, I got lunch detention. I sat at a desk in a row of desks in front of the vice principal’s office with the other kids in lunch detention, writing lines.
"In the future, I will try harder to quietly cooperate with Mrs. MacDonald. I will refrain from being disruptive, disrespectful, or rude."
I can't remember how many weeks I had detention. It seemed like forever. Day after day, I wrote the same sentence, line after line, my hand aching, my pencil point eroding, a spare pencil scotch-taped to the desk, preempting any of us from breaking the icy silence of detention to request a fresh one.
I was supposed to write the sentence 56 times. It was rumored this was the vice principal's age. I numbered each line I wrote, working my way toward 56.
22...
34...
40...
42...
I drew the numerals and circled them.
56 was the goal. 56 was the finish line. But I learned very soon that there was no finish line.
A boy next to me put down his pencil. He raised his hand. Ms. Jones glared at him. She had a scratchy croak of a voice, harsh and abrupt.
"What?"
"I'm finished."
Ms. Jones squinted. She pursed her lips. She folded her arms.
"Finished? There is no finished. Fifty-six...fifty-seven....fifty-eight...fifty-nine...two thousand four hundred sixty four. Get the picture?"
I got the picture. And so I sat there, day after day, week after week, writing lines, awaiting the end of my sentence.
This is how I became a writer.
*************************************************************************************
Email: ian.sanquist@gmail.com
