Humiliating Myself – Writings of a Younger Elm, Number 1

Before I start, just a reminder that You’ve got a month to submit your nominations for the Blogger Awards. Thanks to everyone who’s already submitted, and remember – don’t feel pressured, and whether you get nominated or not, your blog is still wonderful. If you’ve got any questions about the awards, then let me know!

When I was younger – and by that I mean aged 11-13 – I thought that I was a really talented writer. (Actually, I thought I was shit, but I acted as if I was amazing).

I knew that I’d wrifften cringy ‘stories’ in order to show off my tremendous power of storytelling, but I’d deleted all of them off my computer so that I didn’t have to look over them. Of course, back then, I thought that I’d be proud of them when I was older, that I’d read them again and think “Hmm, not bad!” Oh, how wrong I was.

Unfortunately, I neglected to delete the emails that I sent to people, with those stories on. Because yes: I sent those stories to everyone I could think of, because y’know, I thought that I’d let them read it. Not realising that they were seriously awful, I sent derisive comments of “Hahaha this is rubbish but hope you enjoy!” with the secret hope that it was actually great. It wasn’t.

For your enjoyment and my absolute embarrassment, I’ve unearthd possibly the worst thing I ever wrote. Until I found it again whilst trawling through old emails, I forgot that I even wrote it. When I was looking for another awful thing I’d written to show you, I found this, and it far outstripped any other in terms of god-awful ‘plot’. I couldn’t breathe at one point because I was laughing so hard, screeching in disgust. You’ll see why.

In a similar fashion to Michelle and L I’m going to be commentating on this because I CANNOT keep my mouth shut when it comes to this terrible thing. All credit goes to those two for inspiring me to do this (WHY!) and you should check out their posts.

Imagine a girl screaming, hands over her face and peeking out occasionally to stare in horror whilst you read this. I was 12. You’d think I had some semblance of what made a good plot: L, if you thought yours were bad, be prepared to laugh at me. Oh god.

Chapter 1: Humiliation

I stepped into the chilled classroom, looking out onto a sea of faces. Why was starting a new school so hard? Hey, this sounds like every single terrible tween book ever. I flicked my jet-black hair out of my face, trying hopelessly to get a better view of the sickening students around me That’s so prejudiced against them!. I hate my thick, horrible hair Is it also called lovely by many people, but you don’t believe them, because same. In addition, I am petite and thin. And I despise it, loathe it WHAT! So many people would be happy with that and I’m thin too so I get it but thank god I never published this because that’s not a good example for other people. My thoughts were shattered by the person standing, primly next to me. “I am proud to announce the new arrival of your new classmate that makes no sense, 8c . This is Sarah Dorit.” Mrs Dichon, the deputy headmistress of Loodon Secondary school inventive looked at me pointedly.

I started. Was I meant to speak? No, not really. “Um.. I.. Hello,” I gabbled, staring round Gabbled? Are you a goose?. Everyone was scrutinizing me, taking in every detail. Why? Had I said something wrong? Had I? No, they’re just dicks. The spacious classroom grew deathly silent, you could have heard a pin drop ClichΓ©. A hush, so appressing that the light plaster-covered walls closed in on me, squeezing every hope I had out. Forcing every happy memory away, not that there had been any to start with. My past was so… No, not now. Don’t think about it, Sarah. FUCKING CLASSIC OH REALLY! I think I was trying to be mysterious by the whole ‘dark past’ but that is so so awful I can’t

Then I knew. A few chuckles spread round the room. They hit me like sharp knife-blades, and the laughing intensified Rude. My cheeks flushed bright scarlet.

“Now, now! How dare you be so rude to Sarah!” scolded Mrs Dichon You tell them! The woman in question had tiny, pig-like eyes with a wrinkled round face. She wore smart clothes, but that made her look like an utter fool and she was Wait WHAT? She was being nice to you!. I hated her already. I was in year 8, not in year 2 Maybe she’s just trying to be kind! I could actually walk by myself, thank you very much. Despite this, she knew about my past Which you skillfully avoid talking about. Why did she have to know? Because she is in a position of authority within the school. Oh mum, if you… NO! Please don’t think about it Apparently I was trying to emulate her mind but that is such sloppy writing.

“Ha ha ha! She looks so stupid! Childish! Yuck! What the FUCK was that? Are you 4? BET you don’t have a boyfriend! Why should that matter? Faaaaaiiiiiiil!” A tall girl in plaits glared at me. She was pretty, but in a dangerous way. She was thin, but in a disgusting way That is such a horrible thing to say; having any type of body shape is okay!. She was ugly, twisted, frightful inside. I hated her You seem to hate many people. In the few seconds that I’d known her, she was my worst enemy. What, because of those wonderfully imaginative insults she threw at you? She looked about 15, even though she was only approximately 13. She looked so cool, but in a popular, nasty way Being popular is NOT a bad thing STOP pushing your values onto this character!. Well she’d know. She would know What. Her glaring, brown eyes would know. Her thin, furious lips would know. Even her stupid bracelets would know. Bracelets are sentient beings, everyone

I came out of my daydream by the hushed voice of the school teacher. “Katie, that is enough! That unacceptable behaviour is disgusting! Get out of my classroom. At least someone’s sticking up for her Sarah, you may sit over there, next to Jack.” Finally, I had someone on my side. Almost. She’d not spoken yet, and her voice was quiet and soft. She had lovely, deep blue eyes, deeper than mine CUTE!. She was a plump, short woman, but what did that matter? It mattered what was on the inside Finally, you realise!

Nevertheless, ignoring the deputy headmistress’s wave, I stumped blearily over to my seat. Eyes burned hatred and scorn into me from every direction, seeking my dark past out I’m sorry but is it just me that is wondering why everyone hates her? Yeah because she’s such a bad character. Why did everything link back to that? It doesn’t I sighed. Nothing could stop these memories. Absolutely nothing.

I turned to the boy next to me, expecting burning eyes, jeers and anger. But to my shock, even to my great relief, he was smiling at me What a lad. As the class chatter resumed itself, Jack finally spoke. His voice was low, quiet Like every single stereotypical young adult love interest. As i expected. With a tall figure and broad shoulders, he would I suppose have a deep voice GREAT logic!. His eyes were the same colour as mine, but his hair was dark brown. He had beautiful skin, white and pearly, like his teeth WHY the hell are you looking at his teeth?!. What surprised me was what he told me: “Sarah, they’re horrible. Don’t pay any attention to them. They’re stupid, ignorant. I know what happened.” C’mon Jack! What makes you any different?

“How?” I choked back tears. “How do you know aboutβ€”` Are you fucking kidding me? Our conversation was rudely interrupted by Katie, storming up to me. Oooohh dramaaa

“I need to talk to you about something, Sarah. Get your lazy butt over here now.” Aaah, i’m sooo scared, she said the word butt she’s so intimidating! I meekly did as I was told, wishing no, no, no. Katie continued: “Your You’re grammar taking my Jack away from me. He loves me, only me. Don’t take him away ……. I’ll… I’ll… Hate you forever, and get my revenge. I swear I will.” Okay can I just – WHAT?! Sarah knew Jack for all of 5 minutes, so this random girl comes up to her – oh sorry her ‘worst enemy’ and thinks she’s stealing him away. Oh yeah, and Jack loves her. What is this, a soap opera? Ooohh nooo, hating her forever is SUCH a bad punishment. SO threatening.

I went, subdued, back to my table. I worked with Jack all of the English lesson, but I couldn’t bear to speak with him. Katie would get her revenge, even if I didn’t “steal” Jack. You don’t even know each other! The silence between us grew bigger and deeper, until the bell rang.
“Sarah, I need to talk with you.” Jack’s words were sharp, and I instantly feared the worst. YOU LITERALLY HAVE BEEN THERE FOR ONE LESSON! Hesitantly, I faced him. He waited until the gaggle of giggling girls and the bunch of babbling boys cleared the area. Was I trying to use alliteration? That’s like something a 9-year-old would write to show that they could. He took a breath. “Sarah, I know what Katie said to you. I heard every word. No shit, because they were right by you. If she even dares to touch you,” Jack clenched his fists, anger pulsing through his body BIT of an extreme reaction; even if you’re a lovely person and saw someone being picked on, not many people would instantly be that protective “I will do something I’ll regret.”
“B-but Jack,” I stammered, “Y-you hardly know me.” Precisely!
“I don’t care,” I was informed by Jack. “From what I know about you already, I don’t care. Please rely on me, Sarah.” In a typical bad YA novel – I’ve read many to find the good ones, of which there are many – this conversation usually happens after the love interest saves the girl’s life or has her trust broken, not after one hour of meeting each other
He touched my hand then, for a split second Keep it PG bloody hell. I turned tail and bolted like a hunted animal out of the classroom. Hunted by everyone.

I actually can’t. I am half-cringing and half-raging in irritation at these under-developed, over-dramatic characters. Let’s just leave it at that…

I never wrote any more of that story, and if I did, I didn’t send it to anyone. That could be a good thing.

I think that Sarah and Katie should get together by resolving their differences. Better yet, have no romance at all.

I’m just going to cry in embarrassment in a corner.

Did you like my commentary? Do you think I should have it in the next extract of story, or does it interrupt the flow?

From Elm πŸ™‚

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34 thoughts on “Humiliating Myself – Writings of a Younger Elm, Number 1

  1. Haha this is amazing. I can’t remember whether I actually wrote something when I was younger, but I think it would probably be much worse than this!

  2. I used to write stories all the time like this and it would always be the same kinda story but with my crush of the time and me. It’s so crinnnggggyy. I started my blog when I just turned 13 so there’s a few posts where I’m just like ‘whyyyyy?’. Haha πŸ™‚

    • I have some AWFUL posts from back in the days of me first starting this blog so I understand your pain!!! Ugh younger writings are horrendous! But at least I’m not alone!

  3. I’M DYING
    FIRST BECAUSE OF THE CRINGINESS
    SECOND BECAUSE OF THE COMMENTARY OMGGGG ELM
    (third because i am moving, heartbroken, and have spent the last few hours crying)

    • Hey hey, email me? If you ever need to talk you can πŸ™‚ don’t be afraid to, and don’t worry about crying. It’s okay to cry. Also thank you – I’m so so glad you liked it! XX

  4. The use of that short sentence as a last line is fabulous. A* use of structure young Elm. Honestly though I look back at my old writing and it is awful, not a single bit of structure in sight.

  5. Oh goodness!! More than the story I had an amazing laugh at your comments next to every line. Shit. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚

  6. EVEN HER BRACELETS WOULD KNOW OH MY GOD ELM THIS IS BRILLIANT HER BRACELETS I CAN’T and your commentary I’m dead ‘keep it PG’ omg. Also it’s adorable that you sent your stories to everyone you knew hahaha

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