Oh man. I’m hours late on writing this, but technically, it’s still the 13th…but still, there’s no excuses. Anyways, this prompt for this months blog chain is so, so, so…I don’t know. My writing journey beginnings are so lame and artificial, because at first, the only reason I wanted to be a writer was because I got really good grades on all my structural exam essays in elementary school. And then once high school started all those ambitious accomplishments of getting the best grades on all my essays went down the drain, because high school writing apparently does not go along well with my writing style. Oh, by the way, the prompt is as follows:
“What’s one thing you wish you knew when you started writing?”
Yeah, so as I said before, my journey as a writer truly, phenomenally started the moment I got that perfect 4 on my fourth grade essay about a park that I apparently really really liked. The passionate origins, am I right?
Yeah, well, I was mega lame then (still am) and had no idea how to really think or feel with both my brain and my heart or what made up the world and the impact writers made to the world. To be fair, I was in elementary school, and all you’re trying to do in elementary school is be a kid and have fun. Even breathing isn’t a priority because in elementary school you don’t quite have that monumental realization of the significance breathing oxygen into your very lungs is to your life. And then my dad taught me about success, and Harvard, and goals, and a future, and then little young me became obsessed with being the smartest, bestest, straight A’s kid in class. So when I figured out that writing was my most likely available leeway into success, at the age of 9, yes 9, I decided I would become a writer, ONLY because I got that perfect score on that one elementary school essay.
Besides all that mumble jumbo above, the POINT that I’m trying to make is, that I wish I knew, or acknowledged what writing made me feel, and the impact it made in my life, and the impact it could make in others. In other words, I wish I knew that I loved writing when I starting writing, rather than thinking I only loved writing because my fourth grade teacher said I was a good writer…on one essay… about the stereotypical park around the corner.
Actually, I really loved that park, and it wasn’t around the corner. It was in downtown Austin; comparable to the greatest sections of Central Park. So, before I even realized it, writing and stories and words and thoughts, all that mesmorizing confusing stuff meant so much to me, but I never really thought about that when I first started writing.
And I guess that because when you first start to write, it almost comes instinctively, so there’s no time to think about how much it really means to you, or how huge a part it will become of your life. And then you enter the deep dark horridly revolutionary stages of teenage-hood, where you actually start to develop an independent, opinionated brain capable of making both stupid and not so stupid decisions, and you realize, writing is the most insanely freeing, awesome, LEGEND-wait for it-DARY thing ever, because now you come to terms with weirdness. You come to terms with reality a little but more, and you come to terms with failure, success, love, bad things, good things, human feelings, and you realize that writing, or really, storytelling, is how you express all that, AKA the feels.
So yeah, I wish I knew what writing meant to me earlier. What I do like to look back on are the glimpses of moments where I’m at my desk, writing in my own little notebook, 6 years young, about whatever I was thinking, because I realized that I could do that. When you begin writing, it’s really all a series of scenes that go kind of like this:
Brain: “I’m feeling something weird right now. And I really want to do something with that. Hey! Look, there’s a pencil and paper. Now putting thoughts on paper, because I can.”
Brain: “I like this thing. I think I want to keep on putting words on paper, with a pen or pencil…..forever. Because I can.”
I like writing. It makes me feel human again. I don’t do well in real life as a functioning human being when I take unintended hiatuses from writing. Like, if I go one day without writing something, I don’t even know what life is and try my best to maintain a sort of composure that is socially acceptable among the human race. Keeping it all inside doesn’t work for me. I don’t think it works for anyone. Even God can’t hold all the feels inside, and as a result came: The Bible. God/Jesus: Probably the most famous writers/storytellers ever. And then Shakespeare.
I’m going off topic. Sorry. But I think I got the message through…maybe. I don’t know. The thing is, I know and understand what writing means to me now, and that’s a good thing.
Check out all the other blogs this month. They’re probably most likely a lot cooler.
July 2014 blog chain prompt/schedule:
Prompt: “What’s one thing you wish you knew when you started writing?”