By Pat Kovsky-Dotson
Not all gifts are received
at Christmas time!
It was a real surprise!
Did you ever receive a gift that seemed better than anything you could possibly have received at Christmas?
Well, I did! This gift was not expected and certainly not even requested, though it was a gift to last a lifetime and certainly took almost a lifetime to receive.
This gift actually came as a real shock. I never dreamed of having it, and yet it came gradually and without any goal in mind. This gift has lasted all through my latter adult years. It has certainly blessed and surprised me, and it is my hope that others have benefited from it also. Now, what is it? Well, it is the gift of being able to write stories!
When I started out to write in my early days, I could write my ABCs and certainly had them plastered all over walls, books, and coloring books and anything else I could get my hands on. All kids do, and in my early years our household had few of any of the above mentioned items. I can remember as soon as my daddy came in from work, I would grab his freshly sharpened #3 pencil from his pocket. This was the forerunner of the pen that is carried in pockets today. It had a good point and I made a few good points!
Naturally, I learned to do the usual readin’, writin’, and ‘rithmetic. I was lefthanded, but that did not bother me. This left hand was all I had to work with in my early years. I certainly was no star student but made good grades, and back then all children had to write with was a dull pencil, which had to be taken to the sharpener very often. Well, what I used in my writing is not my story, but you need to know this to know how it all began.
This first event is about how to write a story, which has stayed with me all of my life, and I am sure is the foundation of how and why I learned to write. I was in the fifth grade and that year we had several teachers due to the shortage, and some were just poor substitutes. This particular teacher had the class to write a short story for their assignment. I am glad that I don’t remember her name, though I knew all the others.
I could write with my left hand but not with my head! I pondered a day or two as to how to start. Start where? I could not think of a story to write, much less how to start and end. I had never been asked to write a story before!
I was so upset that I asked my daddy to help me. We sat down at the dining room table, which was also my desk. He began to tell this and that event, and finally we settled on a story. Wow! I finally had a story. I was so proud and just knew that the whole class would love it even though it was my first attempt to write anything.
I was very quiet and shy at that time. Needless to say, I was scared to death, but I stood up there in front of the class with pride because I knew I had a good story. I did my frightened best!
The teacher always commented after each story. When I sat down, I could not believe what she said. “I don’t get the point of the story.” It certainly had a point, but my shyness did not put it over very well. In other words, she might as well have said, “It is not good!”
Now, what did embarrassed me do? Nothing! I had a mad fit within myself and said to myself, “What do you know, sub?” My daddy helped me and he has a college education and you don’t!”
It hurt me so badly, not so much for myself, but it was a slam on my daddy. This horrible event has stayed with me all my life, and now I know the reason.
I must have made it through high school and college years, probably writing a little better than in the fifth grade! But the real writing requirement came when I began my first job.
On the staff of the First Baptist Church, I could take letters in shorthand a mile a minute and type out a good looking letter, but this was what someone else said. I had to compose a few things by myself, and here is where the test began!
In composing the Sunday bulletin, there was room for only a few short announcements, so this was easy. In later years, a weekly four-page newsletter was started, and guess who had to compose it? This is what you get for being a Ministry Assistant! Here I go with all the confidence in the world, and wrote it all by myself. When I got into the swing of it, it became easier and hopefully better. With more practice, there was more elaboration. This led to my gift of a lifetime, and yes, the real start did come with a Christmas story.
One afternoon, after a day of Christmas experiences, I felt this urge, this push, this feeling, to write the events of the day. I had never even thought of writing anything like this before. My desk was filled with mounds of other things I needed to see about, but my heart said to do this first.
I sat down to my IBM Selectric typewriter, which was the most modern in its day, and wrote my first story. I had no idea where it was going nor how I would get there. The words went from head, to my heart, and on to my fingers, and came out on the typewriter.
I supposed I was pleased with it, never knowing how I did it. I printed it and sent it with the newsletter as a Christmas greeting from me. Well, as you will soon see, it actually did not come from me. It was a good thing for I received many compliments, and all of this was a mystery to me.
This was my beginning.. The Lord put these things in my mind and heart, totally inspiring me, leading me from that point to keep on writing stories and events that I remembered. I know this is true, for even now I wonder sometimes how my stories develop.
I never dreamed of writing stories about what I remembered, but things developed as the situation presented itself. It all started when my father died in 1983. I guess I never stopped grieving until one day I sat down to write. He had so many achievements and was so well known, I felt something ought to be concrete about him.
This story, too, was developed beyond my planning and expectations. An added bonus was that my story, along with some of his writings, were published in our Fannin County history book, Facts of Fannin.
Through time, a trip was made with some of my family, to the town where my grandparents lived when I was less than 10 years old. I was determined to find the old home place, and finally did. Yes, I remembered everything!
When I got home, I sat down to my word processor, which was a forerunner of the computer, and began my memories. I was having the time of my life, going as fast as I could. Occasionally I would look down, and the screen told me that the word processor was busy! Indeed it was, and a story was written about this from my memory and of things I did on that farm. My first real publication was this story in the magazine, Georgia Backroads, with the front page cover being a picture about my story. From this, a friend asked me to consider writing for this paper.
Events are a great thing, but remembering them is a blessing. Sometimes I wonder how I could retain all these events when I was so little. I would say it had to do with my future writing. Some things you just don’t forget. One of them is the fifth-grade failed story in my past!
Oh, my, my children caught on. After I retired they began to urge me to write the story of things that happened in my life. Well, I began and ended up with 75 pages of this and that, and they all have copies. In writing stories for publication, I pick from these events and develop a story.
I am so grateful that I was allowed to keep these events in my mind and heart. The Lord knew where I was going with them. My writing is not particularly good, but it is read by tourists and friends in the North Georgia mountains. This gives me great joy and a sense of accomplishment. It all started out so sad, having no idea of ever writing anything else, but the Lord knew where He was taking me.
Each time I write, I get a subject, get some idea about it, and just start. I hardly ever change anything, except to edit and maybe add something I had forgotten. Sometimes I wonder how I thought of the event, and how it gets put on paper. Then I think of that teacher when I was so discouraged. That’s OK. I may not be as dumb as she made me feel! I am not writing this to commend myself, because I am just the vessel, but just to reveal the joy of how it evolved, and how I am surprised to be able to do it.
I feel the Lord knew where I was going and I have been able to accomplish something I certainly never dreamed of. It just happened. My family has my history, yet I never up until then, really gave history much thought. My daddy would be proud that I got beyond my first story! I never told him what the teacher said!
As I write my stories for my family and friends and for this paper, I hope all my readers really do “get the point.” I have gone from crayons and a #3 pencil, to a computer, and all instruments in between, and have enjoyed them all.
Yes, this gift did not come at Christmas, but I suppose it really did, as my first story was about Christmas. Do you like surprise gifts? I do! This was a surprise gift, not just for Christmas, but for a lifetime, and I thank the giver!