Writing is not an easy thing to accomplish, or to do. It’s frustrating, it’s challenging, and it’s probably one of the best ways to spend your time. Not only does it make you think, but it can make other people think as well.
As my first semester English professor would say: it takes a lifetime to learn how to write.
As I would say: challenge accepted.
My career in writing really took off in eighth grade, when I had one of the most supportive teachers in the world. She saw my potential, and really pushed for me to reach higher and deeper with my writing. Around that time, I was also falling in love with Cassandra Clare’s series The Mortal Instruments (Although, my favorite books of hers are The Infernal Devices), and she had a great effect on my writing at the time. If anything, her stories empowered me to write more.
Once I hit high school, I was even more motivated to write. I found teachers that were not only impressed with the work I produced, but would sit down with me and find programs for me to look into for college (Although, most of those programs fell through for me). I found friends that were just as impassioned as I was to write – we could talk for hours about character development and the latest plots and other ideas we had come up with. I created a small support network for myself and it is definitely one that I miss now that I’m away at college.
Looking back at my history with writing, it is amazing as to how much I have grown. I’ve done NaNoWriMo and Camp NaNoWriMo countless times and have gotten a handful of stories to novel status. However, most lay unfinished, and are laying in the graveyard of abandoned stories on my laptop. I hope to revive a few of them – someday. It’s always that empty promise that kills me a little on the inside. Someday. Someday, I will finish a novel. Someday, I will become a better, more motivated writer. Someday, the internet won’t distract me while writing (But, let’s be honest here: the internet will always be distracting).
Those empty promises are objects that make writing a challenge sometimes. But, then, I remind myself as to why I write. I write to share untold stories with the world. I write to learn more things about myself. I write to better understand others, to better understand social situations. I write to make someone, anyone in the world, happy.
I just write.
Many people don’t understand my fascination with writing, or reading, but that’s okay. They may not ever understand, but that’s okay. What does matter is that writing is something that I love and it’s something that I work hard at to improve everyday. Writing is a comfort; it is a well known friend. And I wouldn’t give it up for the world.
“We live and breathe words… It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading your words, what you wrote, how you were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way you saw the world, its colors and textures and sounds, I felt–I felt the way you thought, hoped, felt, dreamt. I felt I was dreaming and thinking and feeling with you. I dreamed what you dreamed, wanted what you wanted–and then I realized that truly I just wanted you.”
― Cassandra Clare,