In the Face of Rejection, Finding My Voice

Writing is hard. I understand this could sound a little strange coming from someone who writes often, passionately, and is currently studying to do it for the rest of her life. But it's true. Writing is hard, especially creative writing. It's more than just stringing words into sentences and sentences into paragraphs and paragraphs into stories. There's a beating heart to it, a life force to the words that cannot be taught, but rather, has to be grown. They call that force your voice--

--and the truth is, I don't really have one.

This, too, might sound strange. I've been writing pretty seriously since the ninth grade, when I dropped the idea of becoming a physicist (which was all well and good until I realized how much calculus I'd have to study) and decided instead I wanted to be a writer. I'm still going at it. I'm a creative writing major in a fantastic English department and I'm so excited to keep learning. But the thing is, the whole time I've been writing, I realize I've been focusing on a lot of the wrong things.

After a long time coming, I finally queried that book I wrote--the one written in every free nook and cranny of my busy high school schedule--to agents. And every single one of them rejected it. Now, I'm not really a stranger to rejection. I have a folder of letters of rejection from various things, mostly art programs and one university. I wasn't expecting anything different from agents. But this time around hurt far more than those, because telling stories was something my peers and teachers and even universities told me I was good at. All those letters told me otherwise.

The letters were painful to read the first time, and when something possessed me to read them all again, I thought I'd made a horrible mistake. My motivation was shattered. How could I keep going if my writing had so many problems? If I had no unique voice and no power to pull readers in? What kind of writer was I if I couldn't breathe life into my stories? All this time, I had been so concerned with technicalities, that I paid no attention to cultivating those very vital skills.

But reading those letters was the opposite of a mistake. There's a little fire burning within me, and with every challenge I meet, its flames climb higher and higher. For every "I wish you could do this", and "you need to be able to do this" I read, I told myself, "Okay. I can learn how to do that. I can grow."

I recently tweeted, "I'm starting a new book and it's gonna be the best thing I've ever written and my heart is so happy". I'm not messing around when I say that. What I have is more than just an idea--it's a full-fledged story, running through my brain, desperate to push past my fingers and be told. It won't be an easy process. I'm a busy college student, with papers to write and research to conduct and a community to serve. But when I wrote "CHAPTER ONE" at the top of a brand new document last week, I took the first step of a journey. I don't know how long it will take, but I am disciplined, determined, and unbelievably excited.

So here's to the journey. Here's to finding my voice.

Erin Christopher
Florida State University

Trails to Blaze: A Message to the Tates Creek High School Class of 2016

I would like to preface this post with a little note: I had originally intended to write and publish a post BEFORE graduation, but at the point it was very hard for me to find the right words. Now, after graduating, I have found them.

Trails to Blaze: A Message to the Tates Creek High School Class of 2016

This time yesterday, even though the formality of my last day of high school had passed, I was still a high school student. I woke up giddy, the happiest I’d been in weeks—the sun was shining, it was warm outside, and that night at 7 p.m., I was going to graduate high school. Four years of my life were about to become sealed in the past by the simple turn of a tassel.

                My graduation is over. I am no longer a student at Tates Creek High School, but an alum. And at this moment, I am caught in a complicated swirl of emotions, emotions I am sure many of my now-former classmates share.

 I am overwhelmed by both what is behind me and what lies ahead.

In taking this huge step forward, we are leaving behind our familiar classes, sports teams, and clubs, not to mention the friends we gained from them. We are scattering across the state and across the country, where we’ll fill our lives with new people and new experiences. As of today, the past four years are now nothing more than a memory, and all that lies ahead of us is a very uncertain future.

                But, it’s a future I believe we can navigate, even if we don’t know quite where we’re headed, even if we veer off the path from time to time. From the get-go, I knew there was something exceptional about the Class of 2016. We are made up of accomplished athletes, scholars, and artists. We have powered through one of the most competitive college application seasons to date, earning acceptances and scholarships left and right. We are a class of people who are both dreamers and doers, ready to chase what they want without question. High school was not always easy—for many, it never was—and yet we pushed through because we believed in the promise of the future. That future begins today.

                This is a thank-you, both to those I know and those I do not. Last night, we were part of something truly special. For me, the best moment of the whole night was right after we’d left the arena, when we were shouting and cheering and throwing our arms around each other because we did it. I’ve never felt a space filled with so much joy.

                Today is a day for both celebration and mourning. We celebrate our accomplishments, our memories, our friendships. We mourn the friendships that could’ve been but never were, and the things we could’ve done but never found the time. But I encourage us all to find contentment in these past four years. Life does not always work out the way we want it to—we are all moving forward, with no idea what the next day will bring. I believe if we focus on the good in our memories of high school, we’ll be able to ride that positive momentum into the next chapter of our lives.

                Tates Creek Class of 2016, we have trails to blaze. We will be leaders, inventors, entrepreneurs, creators, and winners, all in our own right. We will come to write our own definitions of success, and then we will match them. I have unwavering faith in us all. I am honored to be a part of such an exceptional class of students, and I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for all of us.

Erin Christopher
Tates Creek High School Class of 2016
Florida State University Class of 2020

It's More than Just a Game: Why 38-1 Hit Lexington Kids Hard

You've taken a seat and turned on the TV. Maybe you're on your living room couch, or in your basement den, or just resting on your bed. Or maybe you're not watching TV at all. Maybe you're there, in person, at the NCAA Men's Basketball Final Four in Indianapolis, Indiana.

Your heart is already pounding, and it isn't even 9:06. Since the start of the season, you've been following one of the best programs in college basketball, the Kentucky Wildcats, on their legendary Pursuit of Perfection. They've won 38 straight games--an incredible feat for anyone, much less a team predominated by underclassmen. Two more, you think. Two more and they will achieve the epitome of perfect seasons. 

The game starts. You can barely breathe through the entirety of it. You shout at the TV, the players, and the refs. The team you've watched succeed all year is crumbling before your very eyes. They fight, oh do they fight, but it isn't enough. It's over.

38-1.

There are tears, curses, and cries. A deep sadness settles over the Big Blue Nation, one that sinks its way into almost everyone's hearts, whether they watched every second of every game, or simply followed the story of the undefeated boys in blue.

Now, I'm not normally one to talk basketball. I'm the person who sits in the other room and waits for the occasional score update, because let's face it--basketball games can make you anxious, and being anxious is NOT something I enjoy. But, I was pulling for the Cats just like a vast majority in my home State of Kentucky, and I felt the pain of their loss last night just as heavily. I still feel it today.

Around the State, people are waking up with a pang of sadness in their heart. They wish last night hadn't happened, that it had all been a dream and their beloved Kentucky Wildcats are really "39-0 with one more to go". Sadly, that's not the case.

As I scrolled through Twitter this morning, I found myself gauging the reactions of my peers with regard to last night's loss. From right after the final buzzer, there were angry posts about the bad calls and purportedly biased refs. But this short bitterness faded away to deep sadness, but also deep appreciation.

This legendary UK team consists of players not much older than us--all between the ages of 18 and 21. We Lexington kids have friends, or acquaintances, or even siblings who are the classmates of this talented team. When someone from our town goes on to do something amazing, there's a sense of pride we all get. We rally behind them, rooting for them every step of the way. This almost unconscious support was exemplified with this year's Cats. They are our peers, and they are representing this community with their athletic prowess, exemplary character, and unbreakable brotherhood.

You see, this year's team isn't just a bunch of guys obsessed with the game. They're amazing on and off the court. "Willie Cauley-Stein Goes on a Lunch Date with a Special Little Girl", "Karl-Anthony Towns gives sneakers to fan in wheelchair following win over Florida", "Letter to Cal reveals Marcus Lee's good deeds": the headlines only scratch the surface of the incredible things these players do off the court.

They are our not only our peers, but our role models. Some might say, "look up to scientists and doctors and politicians, not athletes". Maybe in some cases, but this team is different. What they do isn't a publicity stunt. Coach Calipari recruits these kids not just because they're excellent ball players--they're pretty great people too.

And the kids of Lexington have come to adore them. "UK gives us something to believe in, it gives us something that unifies people from all areas of Kentucky, the nation, and even the world" writes Lexington 18-year-old Hailey O'Hair on Twitter (@haileyarlene). Watching this year's UK team make it so far without a single loss was exhilarating. It gave us something to look forward to every Tuesday and Saturday, something to bond over when we returned to school or work. This season, people made a connection with college basketball that they'd never really had. I can honestly say I was one of them.

So, the next time you're thinking about telling someone, "It's just a game", you should remember that it's a whole lot more than that. The Pursuit of Perfection may be over, and the Cats may be 38-1, but I think we can all rest assured that when it comes to success, these boys are FAR from done.


Erin Christopher, 17
Lexington, KY

We Rise, We Fall, We Keep On Keeping On: A Message to the IB Class of 2016

NOTE: This post was originally written in November 15th for my old blog. I have since moved blogging platforms, and now this post has a new home: here!


When the 2014-2015 school year started, I knew that I was going to be taking on one of the biggest challenges in my life: The International Baccalaureate Program *cue horrified screaming*. But in all seriousness, even as a girl who has always been a natural learner, I gathered from the various information sessions that my days of my lowest grade being that pesky 97 in math were over. Junior year meant buckling down, devoting more time to studying, and participating in numerous activities to earn those crucial CAS (Creativity, Action, and Service Hours). It also meant, sadly, that I now had less time to devote to what I really love: writing fiction.
For the first month and a half of the IB program, I was doing great. My stress levels were low, and I was loving being the manager of a cross country team of great athletes—many of whom have become great friends, as well. Then, October rolled around, our first major exams and projects seemed to hit all at once, and suddenly I was diving headfirst into what is dubbed “The Worst of it All”.
Luckily, I am not taking the plunge alone. There are still about five weeks left of the first semester, and I am thankful that there are around 40 other kids in the same boat, all tackling tons of tough work, GSP/GSA/GSE applications, and multiple extracurriculars at the same time.

But are we really?
A program like the International Baccalaureate is a catalyst for academic competition. There’s a pool of strong, bright students with conflicting personalities and loads of determination. We compare test grades, ACT/SAT scores, and everything in between. Competition, fueled by individual motivation, is healthy in such a setting. But an obsession with perfection and one-upping each other is not. And it’s led to a lot of downright meanness among the 2016 IB Diploma Class.
Some of us have noticed it and expressed our feelings about it only to our friends or family. Some of us have noticed it and haven’t said a word. And some just haven’t noticed it at all. But there is a poisonous tension among this year’s class.
I was one of the students sitting in the HOA Class on 11/14 that got a good talking to about this very thing. The teachers and the 2015 IB Class see what’s going on with us. The words they’ve said about us being mean and cliquish and overly competitive are true, even though we may not want to admit it.
We can turn things around, though. It’s up to us to break the social boundaries we’ve put up, to watch what we say, to stop acting like enemies and start becoming friends. Because we may all have different interests and personalities and we may have run in different social circles before, but now we are in this together and we’re stuck like this for another year and a half.
So why not make things right?
The next time you’re in biology, or TOK, or English, look around at your classmates. Chances are, you can name at least one good thing about all of them. That’s because in a group of kids like the ones in the IB Class of 2016, there’s a whole lot more good to find than bad.
Here’s my proposition: Focus on the good. Don’t confine yourself to a single social circle. Understand that we’re all a little stressed out. If what the seniors say is true, the worst of it may be over after this semester. But I would love to spend the best of it with all of you, as a weird, slightly dysfunctional but still really amazing IB family.
Now let’s get those diplomas!*
*By get those diplomas I mean get back to doing your homework because let’s face it, most of us are swamped this weekend.
Wow, we really are a bunch of nerds.

On Jeopardy, Anxiety, and What Happens When You Mix the Two

NOTE: This was originally posted on July 22nd on my old blog. I have now moved blogging platforms, and its new home is here!


For those who watched my appearance on Jeopardy! this evening, you know that I lost my quarterfinal—not miserably, but pretty close to it. Although I was crushed at first, losing my lead at the beginning and dropping to last, made worse by my (admittedly idiotic) second-guessing at the Final, I realized that I was still one of fifteen chosen from tens of thousands to compete. That is an achievement unmatched by most of America’s teenagers, and losing my quarterfinal round is nothing to be ashamed of on what is dubbed ‘America’s Toughest Game Show’.
There were a few answers I blanked out on or just flat out messed up (Final Jeopardy included), but a lot of my screw-ups could be attributed to my plain nervousness. To quote a certain Twitter user, “This girl on Teen Jeopardy looks like she’s going to have a heart attack every time she answers.” I agree completely. There is a reason, though, as to why I was the most terrified of all of the contestants.
I suffer from anxiety, and for the longest time, I denied it. I thought it was perfectly okay to live in constant fear and nervousness, but then I came to realize (as did a few doctors who dealt with me in hospitals) that I actually had a real problem. During my sophomore year, it took hold of my life stronger than it ever had, making it impossible for me to sing or dance on stage, two things I love dearly, or to even stand up and speak in class.
Before the worst of my 10th grade anxiety, which spanned about Mid December through Mid March, I had already taken the Online Test for Teen Jeopardy and gone through the live audition process. I did not believe I would be selected for the Tournament, so I was incredibly shocked (but also excited) to get the phone call informing me that I would be one of fifteen contestants to appear on the show. But then the anxiety took over, and my burst of confidence diminished.
I will be the first to admit that I was an absolute wreck in my quarterfinal. My hands were shaking and I barely had control of the buzzer. I was more focused on “Oh no, if I screw up my classmates are going to bully me so much” than the actual game. As it turns out, the bullying did not come from my classmates, but from random people on the internet. There is nothing I can say to that other than that I’m sorry you feel the need to poke fun at my anxiety, and you should be grateful that you don’t suffer from it. I would never wish the burden of being an anxiety-ridden teenager on a national TV game show on you.
While my performance on the show may have been far from extraordinary, my experience was not. I made 14 of the greatest friends I will ever have, I got to be in Hollywood while the Oscars were going on (holy crap), and I got to participate in something tens of thousands of teenagers nationwide dream of doing. I have earned my place as a Jeopardy! Alum, as have all of the other contestants (and I mean ALL of them. I’m sick of seeing people say horrible things about Josiah. He’s our friend). Jeopardy! is something I encourage all of my fellow trivia lovers to audition for.
I have come to the realization that no matter what I do, if I give it my all, I will not be considered a failure. Failure is giving up, and giving up is something that will no longer cross my mind. Coming to this conclusion has set me on a personal journey of overcoming my anxiety—a journey where I continue to make leaps and bounds towards becoming a less nervous, more positive person. For those who have similar goals of defeating the anxiety monster, I wish you the best of luck. You are far more wonderful than you know.
To close, I would like to encourage anyone reading this to watch the entire two weeks of the Jeopardy Teen Tournament. Regardless of who you’re really rooting for, I hope that you will cheer on not only the winners of the quarterfinals, but the recipients of those coveted wild card sports.