Writing's Second Taste

Chapter Nine: Glory and Fame

We all sat in the lecture hall, Meg constantly fidgeting in her seat with an impressive lineup of pens and pencils in front of her. I glanced towards my laptop and a ripped piece of paper that I asked from one of her notebooks before shrugging.

I wasn't concerned much and the number one reason why was the person who suddenly strolled into the room, calling the attention of every student, "Good morning everybody."

Meg shook my arm in order to turn my focus towards the front nd I resisted the urge to laugh when I watched my own uncle write his name on the whiteboard, "I'm Mr. Levi Kingsley and I'll be in charge of this class for the term."

"Can you believe we have a first-class author as our professor?" she barely contained a squeal, her gaze fixated on the man that I couldn't take seriously as he droned on in front. It was weird, when I was three, he was covered in mud because he spent all afternoon playing with me, my brother, and our cousins but he still danced around in our living room, much to mom's chagrin. When I was seven, he came for the holidays and busted through the door in a Santa Clause costume, complete with the itchy beard and a pillow stuffed under his shirt to imitate a bulging belly. When I was twelve, he stood in the kitchen with us and attempted to make brownies, which ultimately led to all of us spilling flour everywhere.

Those were the little things that eluded the public's attention since he brought up such a serious image. He may be a professor to the university, he may be a best-selling author to the world, but to me, he was still the same Uncle Levi who knows how to be childish and fun while being an excellent mentor.

"So as you expect, you'll be writing throughout this class," he crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes consciously making an effort not to meet mine, "And at the end of the term, you're going to pass a short story made by yourself as your last project. It's worth thirty percent of your grade so I suggest not to submit anything out of dillydallying."

Meg nodded vigorously, jotting it all down on her notebook. I proceeded to open the small draft of the story I was currently writing before I felt a small frown conquer my face. Yes, I might be on track with my book now, but this class will force me to create a new one.

I wonder how I will be able to go through with my classes. Mom did say that it was an opportunity for a change of scenery, but I guess studying was something I was anticipating but was never really prepared myself for.

The gap year I took was enough to put me off out of the concept of staying late at night with a textbook or investing my heart and soul for projects that wouldn't really matter in the grand scheme of things.

I opened my bag and drew out a novel, a silhouette of a man in front of a hazy yellow background was flashed as the cover and at the very below was Uncle Levi's name along with the title #1 New York Times Bestselling Author.

If you do anything without passion, it loses its meaning. Will and the right motivation are the two things that needs to work in order to produce anything near importance. Once you've acquired your initial goal, it's not the moment to stop, but rather, to find a new one.

And, my dear, if your goal is for you to be well-known then prepare for a life wherein you keep chasing for something impossible. There would always be someone who wouldn't recognize you, who would simply pass by your name without a mere sparkle in their eyes. The real goal you should be chasing is satisfaction and with the ideal thought of fame constantly running in your mind, you'll never be happy.

Time flew by quickly and after one last explanation from Uncle Levi, he dismissed the class. We gathered all of our belongings and I was prepared to go back to the dormitory since I had some free time while Meg had another class right after, "I'll see you."