The literary arts was never something that drew my interest. I always felt that reading and writing was more of a function, than it was a recreation and as such brought no special pleasure. During the years in which I was in school many assignments were completed at the behest of my subconscious. Though I regularly produced a work product that was sufficiently proficient, it was without any flare.
One thing that would add to my frustration was what at the time appeared to be a frivolous topic to write about. How I spent my time during my time away from school or what was my favorite food and why. I would often think to myself who cares what I did or what I like, and why does it matter. This difficulty within was often exacerbated by
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Several weeks into various subjects of instruction, came one of those days I was not anticipating. It was time for the block of instruction for the infamous report writing. It seemed that I just could not get away from it. I thought to myself, at least this time I will have something to write about. One day toward the end of this block of this block of instruction, one of my fellow cadets who happened to be an active reserve deputy, displayed for the class a report that he had written. The case report was almost an inch thick and was hand written. With the exception of a new concern of career long case of writer’s cramp, I was not daunted.
Flash forward just shy of four years later, my time had come and I was picked up by an agency. I was assigned to my first field training officer who I affectionately refer to as “Johnny D”. We began taking calls for service and reports to be written came along. I, ask the rookie would write the report submit it to Johnny and return it to be revised with crucial details not included. I made the adjustments and the reports were once again sufficient, but still lacked the luster that I would consider necessary by my standards of