“Writing’s a given, good writing isn’t.”

For Me
Writing: for some, it’s just a homework assignment or an essay;  for others, it’s a career requirement or collection of data to a field of study, but for me, it’s somewhere in between. It’s not just a leisurely hobby or something I enjoy doing in my free time; it’s all my thoughts, ideas, and creativity in the form of words. Put simply, it’s a part of my lifestyle… it’s a way of life. It’s a method to release how I feel and incorporate it into my writing process, and that is a one of the reasons as to why I came to value it so highly.

I was only 13; nothing more than a struggling, lazy 8th grader experiencing her very last, nerve-wracking year of middle-school. Math was as hard as ever, as were many of my other classes except for Language Arts. That class was my refuge from the mind-boggling world of inexplicable equations and complicated graphical planes. I would lose myself within the organized symbols etched across numerous pieces of paper and take notice of the personal movie playing through my mind as my pencil moved in sync with every image that appeared. This was writing; a component that I would soon come to accept as a major piece of my life.

We were only into the first week of the first trimester of the year, and already, homework and tests were being dished-out like it was finals. All projects and lessons were a bore and made us work harder than what we were used to, with the randomized, monotone lectures, wrist-jamming note-taking, and occasional, all-or-nothing tests that is to say, except for one particular assignment. During Language Arts, the teacher announced an interesting long-term task: Choice Writing 1-3. I sighed in slight interest as her explanation of the assignment, and then she finished. That’s when it all started for me. That is when I stopped being a stressed-out school-girl, and began to show signs of a new and improved author to be.

“Memory”; my first piece of writing; a short story of about five pages with a profound meaning to no one but myself. Based off a dream I had as a small child, I was able to relive that vision as I poured-out my entire experience through smeared handwriting and remnants of erased lead. I would write and read every night as soon as I got home, scribbling down every last detail my imagination could think-up until my wrist ached and my mind was geared into overdrive. Eventually, all this led to typing everything out and adding, with a good amount of deleting, to the storyline as I recalled every emotion and detail. I would smile at the warm moments and tear-up at the unpleasant ones, but that was Choice Writing #1. A simple tale of unwavering faith while learning to cope with tragedy and loss. With my confidence high and my sense of accomplishment at the maximum, I was very proud of myself, to say in the least.

Then came “Camp Cougar Lake”: Choice Writing #2. Another short story around seven pages with a great deal of revision. There’s just something about horses and getting lost in the wilderness that makes for a compelling story. Based-off a favorite book of mine, this story was the preview for the piece that compelled my writing to be more advanced; I was about to breach an entirely new level.

It was my first self-composed book, and the turning-point of my entire writing capabilities… it was “Luck, Talent, and Experience”. An enchanting tale told from the point of view of a racehorse, from beginning to end. This was to be Choice Writing #3, and even after it was turned-in, graded, and disconnected from my school-life, I still added to the story and ended up with 72 pages of 12 point, Bookman Oldstyle font. Upon finishing it, I had also been reading “The Hunger Games” by Suzanne Collins, my inspiration, and all at once, I had a revelation. I wanted to write something as enticing and thrilling as this trilogy; it was my motivation for my own series of self-incorporated storytelling.

I would sit on the couch for hours on-end, typing away on my laptop, making notes and constructing the story of Briedda Kane: the destined heroine of my story. I wrote more and more every waking moment I had to myself, rain or shine, week-day or weekend; II prevailed. Sure it took-up the time I usually spent playing video games or watching new episodes of my favorite TV shows, and I bet I focused on it more than I probably should have, but after about a year of commitment and critical thinking, I completed my first real book of 92 pages and over 54,000 words. I called this masterpiece, “Bloodline”.

After a few days of admiring my work of art, I began constructing book two in the series: “Broken Legacy”. As of now, it is a work in progress, at 59 pages and around 32,000 words, it is about 30% completed. I can’t help but look at where I am now and fancy at how much I’ve grown; it’s kind of unexpected that someone as laid-back as me would strive for something as complicated at this. I can also say that my skills in writing, reading, and creativity have been brought to a higher level, with my new understanding of more advanced pieces of literature and the different words, and their meanings I have ingrained within my mind. I have come to see the world in a different perspective than before. As a creative author, noticing the small details, like color, aids the writer with painting pictures through text. But like I said, this degree of writing takes time and practice to reach, and only the truly devoted and passionate writers, will end-up obtaining the title of an author. Writing: a single component compiled into a way of life for me and many others; I am an author, and proud of it.