- hello E. M. Jenkinson
- Username: emjenkinson
- In response to: "What do you do on the side?" I'm an avid writer and lover of all things otaku.
- emjenkinson's latest answers
- A Passion in Writing
I can't really recall a time where an "experience" drove me into writing -- I was gifted with a wild imagination at birth and spent many of my younger years traipsing happily through the trees, hills, and brooks of my childhood home. Perhaps that's a perk of living on acres and acres of woodland. For obvious reasons, we weren't allowed to walk too far from the house, but I can recall a sharp drop in the hill to the northeast of our house where we'd run up and down, pretending to be chased by wild creatures. I can remember to the west, where we'd chase each other with sticks -- often pretending we were warriors, wizards, Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, or Sailor Scouts. It was those games that eventually led me to where I am now. In fourth grade, I can recall our Benchmark Exams -- a nationwide test to see whether or not students are being taught the things they should be. We had an essay, the directions of which I cannot recall. I do, however, remember my answer.
That year, I had become obsessed with the game Populous -- so much so that my family found it necessary to ban my brother and me from playing it because we'd fight over the Playstation. When that rule was made, I turned to writing, instead creating a world led by Shamans that shared characteristics with the Sailor Scouts. It was the events of that world, which I entitled Shaman World, that found its way to my paper that test. Naturally, I failed the prompt, but my teacher at the time had been impressed with my imagination, and even stated so when she graded the essay.
The next year, I continued delving into the world of fantasy. While I wouldn't reach the scale I'm at today for another year, I still remember playing Mustardseed in A Midsummer Night's Dream, as well as continuing playing various versions of Nancy Drew in the woods we lived in. Sixth grade went much the same, until the summer following. That summer, we moved to another town -- I would begin seventh grade at a new school, where the teachers would fuel my passion, having each recognized my talents.
But first, that summer. It was June of 2003, and I was bored as hell. I had developed an addiction to ASMR (A Sailor Moon Romance) and I while I don't recall how I stumbled upon it, I discovered my first text-based MUD. (Yes, I'm that much of a nerd.) That MUD, or multi-user dungeon, The World Called Hollow, is still very much a part of my life today and served as an introduction to many of the friends I still keep. At that time, I was in shock. I created my first character, and I can remember being sent to The Stupid Name Room for naming her Dragona, which I later found out I had misspelled. I had taken the tame from a game I was playing at the time, Heroes of Might and Magic. The proper spelling as Dragana, and if I had used that maybe I wouldn't have been punished. After that, I was forced to recreate my character and Lady Larewen Dragona, traitor of her homeland, was born. That game, Hollow as we call it for short, was the tool that drove my writing to the next level: I learned proper grammar and mechanics, to capitalize my words, and to never use instant messaging as an excuse to type like a child.
I continued my adventures in Hollow merrily as I entered the seventh and eighth grades. There, I met two teachers who fueled my passion with earnest: Mrs. Romeo and Mr. Ward. It was that year that I wrote my first real short story, No Such Thing Exists. It was for an assignment, and I had hastily put it together half an hour before heading to school that morning -- and yet, Mrs. Romeo loved it so much that I remember her saying if there was time, we could read it aloud again. Mr. Ward also appraised my talent. I remember him helping me with descriptions by showing me a sentence in the book he was reading -- one that now that I'm older, I wish I could find simply for that one line that I will never forget (and perhaps this is where my love of horror first started): "There were bubbles where his head had been."
The next few years, I would go on to attempt NaNoWriMo, failing year one and succeeding the second time -- as of yet, I haven't won again. I had taken careful precautions the year I won, 2008, to make sure I didn't lose the manuscript: I printed a hardcopy, to be safe. Unfortunately, that hardcopy was lost, and my computer had to be formatted, costing me that beautiful piece of work. At that moment, the passion left me for quite a while. My muse, the teasing little spite that she is, would visit me at times. She even left an idea with me that I remember beginning. That story I saved to a flash drive, not wishing to visit the same horror again. Unfortunately, my ex disassembled the flash drive prior to leaving me.
After those two incidents, I lost all desire to write for a long time. Now, here I am, struggling to reignite that flame, to kindle the fire that I once had, to revive my passion in the written word -- which brings me to where I am today: a writer.
- This One's For You, Baby
Almost a year ago, I met this wonderful guy online. Of course, my family and friends brought to mind my past relationships that began via the internet, pointing out how I had been hurt and that I should stick to finding a guy I could meet in person. The thing is, I'm stubborn. Always have been and, more than likely, always will be. Because of that nature, I threw aside their words of wisdom. The path hasn't been smooth -- it's been full of rocks, bumps, monsters, and ugly moments where sometimes, I wished I had chosen a less favorable path. We persevered though.
There are times I want to kill him. I mean that in the most serious way possible. (And please, for the love of God, don't perceive that as threat.) Then, there are times I wish to cuddle him. Times I wish I could be the perfect girlfriend.
But that's the point. There's no such thing as a perfect boyfriend or girlfriend; a perfect husband or wife; or even a perfect couple. If there were, they'd surely be driven insane with boredom. (I had a relationship like that once, where everything was as perfect as pie. It had the nastiest end, too. Sometimes, I wish I hadn't wasted all that emotion on the loser, but hey! I learned from it, didn't I?) Love isn't a word to be tossed around -- and yet, everyone does it. Every moment, of every day, someone falsely uses the word. Someone lies to their significant other, just to keep them happy. Someone says "I love you" and they don't mean it. I've been there, I've done that -- and I'm sure you have too. That's not what's important right now, though. Right now, it's important that he knows I do love him.
This is our first Valentine's day together. We met almost a year ago; I was upset about something and had written a silly little journal entry on a worthless website and he responded to it by direct messaging me. It really made my day. I didn't realize then that I would be with him a year down the road. I didn't realize then that he would throw away his life in Iowa to take a bus down to Arkansas to prove that he wanted to be with me, after I had thrown it in his face in lieu of a dispute -- I'd told him I was leaving for California. If he wanted to be with me, then he better get here. Now, here I am, with him still at my side -- hundreds of miles from what we used to call home.
This is our first Valentine's day together, and yet we're not together at all. By time he gets home from work, I'll be heading in. After that, we've got no money to spare.
So this one's for you, baby. I'm not any more perfect than you are. Sure, I like to act like it. I have an inflated ego. We both need to change in some ways, so just bare with me. Take those starting steps with me, so we can live a long, happy life together. Forever.