Throughout my whole life, I knew I loved writing. Whether it be filling journals with poetry, having stacks of printed short stories or working on novels, my obsession with literature began early. In high school, creative writing was placed on the back burner and I tried out architecture, science, and pretty much any subject I could get my hands on, just to be sure English was what I wanted to pursue.

I began my college career at Sussex County Community College (SCCC). I decided to declare an English Major but was never really sure if I wanted to continue with my education. All I wanted to do was sit at home and write for hours and school seemed to get in the way of that.

In my last semester at SCCC, I took my first creative writing class with Professor Bernard Bomba. He had told two of my classmates to bring in poems to be work-shopped and nobody knew what to expect. The advisors warned everyone at the school not to take his class, but there we were ten of us, deciding that we were passionate enough about writing to take the risk. In the first workshop, Professor Bomba got angry and told us that poetry is not about abstract emotions, but rather concrete imagery – it is the only way that art can fully capture our individual moments and our spaces in the world. He recommended that we read On The Road by Jack Kerouac and the next day, I purchased the novel from the local bookstore. If you have not read "On The Road,"it was written in the beatnik era and illustrates youthful freedom, the vastness of the world, and the longing of the human spirit. For what exactly? Possibly for another person.

For years, that novel has stuck with me and guided me through my education. It is always there as a constant reminder of what literature can do and also my love for the art form. The book alone transformed my writing because I learned that writing is not only about setting emotions free, but also to capture moments in time – both big and small – and letting those moments blossom into something incredible, something that will connect with other people.

I transferred to TCNJ and, once again, found myself second guessing the path I had chosen. I was driving back to the campus from my home and out over the fields of North Jersey, I saw the road and the trees turn gold and the sky was stained with wine. Never in my life had I witnessed something so beautiful and I thought about pulling over and capturing the moment with a picture. I was reminded of Jack Kerouac; pictures cannot do what words can do. I remembered what my professor had told me about the power of writing and pull inspiration from the moments in life that reach out to you. In the same moment I had recognized the landscape, the sun sank and burned out.

Life tends to reach out in tiny moments – moments that could end so quickly without recognition or even the slightest nod. I thank a couple of people for that drive back: My grandfather for watching over me, my professor for leading me to that place, and for Jack Kerouac whose words echoed in my head: “Pass here and go on, you’re on the road to heaven.”