A Writer's Journey

December 28, 2011
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I remember the first book I ever wrote, in kindergarten, about how much I loved my godmother and how she was way better than Cinderella’s fairy godmother.

I remember reading the first chapter of Harry Potter and never wanting put it down since it ignited my love for reading.

I remember in middle school when I read during all of my free time. I later obsessed over the idea of writing my own novel, but sadly never having the focus to start because I could never think of a beginning.

I remember my seventh grade teacher helped me start to enjoy writing when she showed me how to convey my emotions in words.

I remember learning about my grandmother’s death and not knowing what to feel. Should I mourn for my loss or rejoice for the end of her pain from cancer?

I remember discovering my love for poetry in middle school when I used my conflicting emotions to show others how I felt.

I remember writer’s block. Like an abyss, it never seems to end because you constantly fall. As much as I hate writer’s block, even the greatest writers endure it, and each time I arise a better writer.

I remember the first time I realized I hated editing my own writing because editing includes restructuring and fixing grammatical errors, which seem very tedious to me.

I remember exploring my strengths and weaknesses within poetry. I learned that I write better when I just let the words flow than having to deal with rhyme schemes or meter like in a sonnet. I developed a love for free verse.

I remember thinking I would never write non-fiction because I could never finish any non-fiction books. I couldn’t stand it. Now I understand that writers write non-fiction to express themselves in ways they can’t in face-to-face conversation. Now I write non-fiction too.

I remember how attached I became towards my writing when I completed each manuscript. Manuscript became an extension of myself that I guarded as my most precious treasures, earning a special place in my heart.

I remember how my understanding of music evolved, after my first semester in Creative Writing. I began to recognize the subtleties that make songs memorable like clever metaphors and captivating imagery that exist in poems as well.

I remember the satisfying feelings of joy and relief that occur after I finished each of my manuscripts. All the hours and deep thought that went into planning, writing, and editing paid off with a finished product that deserves my pride.

I remember the first time a story made me cry because a man holding a machete murdered a girl. The dark tone conveyed through the voice of a frightened young girl led to my connection with a situation far from anything I have experienced before and led me to cry. I hope to write this effectively one day.

I remember when inspiration struck on a plane where I finally thought of the beginning of my novel while watching Lord of the Rings. I opened a Word document and let my fingers fly over the keyboard to write, finally stepping out of my eternal dilemma of not knowing how to begin my novel.

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