“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if
you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The
worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” –Sylvia Path. I do not write out of mere
recreation; I write from compelling desire: a desire to express myself, to have
my thoughts and ideas be heard, and an outlet for my own mind. Writing is not an option for me. Throughout
the day, I see beauty all around me and feel the need to adequately describe it
on paper. I learn historical and mythological information in classes and
daydream about what it would be like to experience such an era as the Egyptians
or Romans. I yearn to travel the world and explore fascinating places, discover
minute details most people would glance over, and trek the road less travelled.
Communicating through language is an inescapable way of life for me. Words
course through my body as if blood, completely consuming me and scratching me
from the inside out, just begging to be freed on a piece of paper.
Ever since I was a young girl, I’ve been writing whenever
I could. I completed word searches and played Scrabble when most kids would
color or participate in sports, I always had my nose in a book, and my reading
level was higher than other children. The first set of books that truly
inspired me to be a writer was The Little
House on the Prairie series by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I read and reread
those books until the covers were worn and the pages tearing. One day my mother
explained to me the stories were actually Laura’s diaries turned into fiction.
This was a shocking revelation to me. From then on, I kept my own journals,
hoping someday in the future someone would find my life captivating enough to
publish. At first, I wrote about mundane subjects, such as what I had eaten
that day or the weather. As time went on, I began to realize I could write
absolutely anything I wanted, and not be reprimanded or judged for what I said.
Soon my journals were full of feelings and opinions and other thoughts,
wherever my imagination took me.
My family has continuously influenced my writing. I
remember my baby sister being completely obsessed with “Dora the Explorer”, so
for a gift I wrote her a short story about an adventure Dora was embarking on.
As Christmas presents I would write stories for different family members. Every
time I read something new, it would inspire me to write something, admittedly,
very similar. I just wanted to be able to convey in my stories what other authors
could, make people feel the way I did when I read something amazing. My best
friend lived right down the street from me and while at her house I would
create story ideas, and we would act them out with her Barbie dolls. If
something seemed awkward, I would change the detail, or if in the involvement
of our game, something off script occurred, but I liked it, I would rewrite the
story to accommodate the change. When I was about eleven years old, the idea
formed in my mind to write my own series, and then mail it to a publisher. I
accomplished as far as the second “book” before I abandoned the idea, thinking
who would ever want to read something that I wrote? I was just a kid, growing
up in an insignificant town in Ohio, with no connections, and probably no
talent.
I neglected writing for a period after that. I wrote in
my journal occasionally, but I didn’t do any more fiction. By this time I was
in high school, and while I was succeeding in my English classes, I was utterly
intimidated by other students’ writing. There was no way I could compete with
them, their talents, and their way with words. It was an impossible task, so I
couldn’t see the point in trying. Through it all, God was speaking to me, and I
gradually started to listen. Everyone has a story to tell, and their own unique
way to tell it. The way I see something is original to me, no one else has my
point of view, my thoughts. I needed to stop comparing myself to other writers
and just write from my heart.
Since then, writing has been my release. I immediately
pull out my journal or open up a Word document whenever I have the sudden urge
to let out my emotions. I’ve found writing out my feelings to myself is more
effective than exploding on people and regretting it later. When I’m
discouraged, I write. When I’m upset, I write. When I’m confused beyond belief,
I write. When I’m overjoyed, I write. I physically would be lost without the
ability to vent. Words are my outlet, my escape route. I feel so free and
satisfied when I’m able to precisely describe the inner workings of my mind.
Life sometimes throws us curveballs unexpectedly. The
summer before my senior year of high school my family was relocated to Spring
Hill, Tennessee. I was forced to leave the only home I’ve ever known, form new
roots in an unfamiliar city, at a new school, hundreds of miles away from my
friends. It was the biggest change I’ve gone through in my entire life. It
completely turned my world upside down. I had never felt more alone, and I
thought I had no other option rather than to turn into myself, to my writing.
It was there for me when everyone and everything was too far away. It became my
lifeline. I wrote about my anger and confusion and life’s unfairness, and how I
couldn’t grasp the reason for changing my life this drastically, specifically
with this timing. I withdrew into the recesses of my mind, and wouldn’t come
out for anyone. I spent the whole summer utterly miserable, while God was
slowly showing me that this wasn’t what he meant for the move to accomplish. He
wanted to bless me, and have this move be a positive experience. Eventually, I
climbed out of my shell, and learned how to adjust to my new life.
Not only do I want to fully express my musings, I also
desire to show readers my creative side. I wish to take them to the jungles of
Madagascar to the Eiffel Tower in France to the beaches of Cape Cod. If other
writers can make me feel like I can do anything, be anyone, I want to transport
my readers likewise. I long to share the freedom and independence writing
brings a person. To provide an escape from reality for those who need it, as so
many authors have done for me. I want to be an encouragement, an example, and a
beacon of hope for the depressed. My goal is not to write the next great
American novel, or fame, or even riches. I simply want to share my passion of
writing with others.
God has given me a talent, a purpose that I intend to
fulfill to the maximum. I’m not sure where my path will take me, but I’m
content with that. I am a firm believer that God is in control of my destiny,
and I want to go wherever he wants to take me. “I have come that they might
have life, and have it abundantly.” John 10:10. God will guide me in the
direction he wishes me to travel. He will never leave me, just as he never has
left me, even when I felt the most isolated. I seek for my writing to glorify
him, whether it is fiction or my journals. He has brought me to Tennessee, to
Lee University, for a certain reason, and I yearn to discover the meaning
behind it all. I have accepted the past, embrace the present, and rest in
hopeful anticipation of the future.