As an elementary school girl, I spent a great many of my nights tucked under plush covers with a pen and journal in my hand (because my young mind believed real writers used pens) and wrote for extended periods about my day—little opinions in my head as well as intangible wishes and dreams. Writing in the confined walls of my journal created a newfound safe place and an amazing creative area for me. Little did I know that this journal would be the start of my unshakable love for this form of art.
Additionally, in the beginning, I wrote on and off in various journals. Writing was a hobby and a relaxing way to pass the time. I was inconsistent and picky when I wrote, but did write when I felt it was needed. It wasn't until middle school in which I slightly shifted away from my healthy rants and experimented with poetry. I didn’t necessarily know the rules nor did I have a distinct style, but I gave my all in maintaining a constant "abab" rhyme scheme. I frequently recited sloppy stanzas out loud or to my mom; but despite my inexperience, I enjoyed the idea of having my words, my thoughts, shared on paper, no matter who cared to listen.
Therefore, entering high school I realized that my love for this unique craft wasn’t entirely one dimensional. I still wrote my fair share of poems; although, I craved to know more about other authors and their individual stories. I read numerous works within my classes and grew to favor writing reflection papers. When I wrote essays, I always strove for my type of perfection. I grew to love the feeling of planning, brainstorming and translating my ideas clearly on paper.
Typically, I didn’t tell anyone of my fascination and interest. I kept my journal mostly to myself because I was an athlete. I was focused on going to practice and performing well in games. I took writing seriously in the classroom or in my room, but pursuing it as a career was out of the question. Going into the arts was too risky and "foolish," and I heard numerous comments on where this writing dream of mine would stand in the financial category. In addition to the doubts around me, I also battled uncertainty and fear. I didn’t consider myself a writer because I wasn't published nor had I received awards for my work. In my eyes I was just another teenaged girl who enjoyed writing.
This process of removing fear within my goals was undeniably tough. I felt stuck listening to the remarks of others and mostly from the ones I fed myself. However, when I finally started to become unapologetically myself in other areas of my life—owning
the title of a writer came easily.My newly claimed confidence shined through my work in my junior and senior years and I met some great individuals. My English teachers encouraged my appreciation for poetry and other literature and I found many opportunities to express my unique perspective in this evolving craft.
Altogether, as a current college student and after four semesters of multiple classes, whether it be composition, journalism, creative writing, etc., my love for this art form has not faltered. Over the years, I've grown tremendously as an individual and undoubtedly settled into myself as a writer. Whether I'm writing in my journal or finishing up my first book, I will continue to be shameless and notably driven while vocalizing my creative voice.
