Rediscovering Writing

The first time I ever picked up a writing utensil, I created a lovely work of art for my mom. Unfortunately, she interpreted it as scribbling on the once clean white wall. I believe my first experience led to me not being able to have a freshly baked cookie. Surprisingly, despite this crushing incident, I recuperated and returned to writing. Probably helps that elementary school demands that a student uses things such as a pen, pencil or marker on a regular basis. Though they seem to not appreciate one using a wall to do their work, either.

I wasn't a young student who picked up quickly on a lot of the skills in school. It took work for me to grasp things like math or colouring in the lines. Despite lacking some skills, I always had my creativity. I remember at a very young age making up stories to tell my cousins. They often came over to my house and asked me to tell them a tale. I was usually doing it on the fly. When I was younger, I would ride the bus to school. I would entertain myself and seat partners by telling some fantastical story. Of course, I loved my mom telling me a story before I went to bed. I loved entering into another world and allowing my imagination run wild.

Not surprisingly, I was quite happy when I learned to read and write. I remember taking a notebook with me to the babysitters and spending several hours writing different stories or poems. It was a great opportunity to allow my mind explore new lands or to tackle new adventures. When it came to writing, I was always very creative. Even though I didn't enjoy or do well in every school subject, I always looked forward to anything involving creative writing or story telling.

Grade 3 was probably the time that my love for writing really exploded. I give all my thanks to my teacher, Miss McCombe. I remember she gave me a notebook and told me to write to her on a regular basis. This was not an assignment or anything that was graded. It was a teacher that was encouraging a child to write in his free time. The notebook contained everything from letters to journal entries to poems to stories. She always provided some type of feedback which I absolutely loved. She really helped foster and nurture my love to write. I will always be grateful to her.

Sadly, I allowed my writing to slip over the years. I had countless poems and stories written during my childhood. In comparison, my collective works from the past 10 years is quite pitiful. I have very few short stories or poems. The majority of my works consist of mandatory assignments for school or the sporadic journal entries over the years (guys don't have diaries).

It was this summer that I told myself I want to recommit to writing and seriously pursue it. My long time goal has been to have a novel published. I would absolutely adore a professional writing career. I also know that it is very hard to have a successful and profitable writing career. Especially if a person hopes to enter the marvelous world of fiction. Of course, that is why I am looking to getting into teaching for my current career. But I have decided, I will not give up the hope of being a writer.

This is why I am going to try to continue to keep up this blog. I will return to my not-a-diary writings. I will read. Lots. Because continued reading is a great road to take in becoming a better writer. There is a lot of amazing writers out there. Maybe some constant reading of their works will cause something to rub off on me. Or maybe I can come up with a way to rip off their work without anyone really noticing. Hmmmm. . . no one really remembers that Dickens guy, right? I will venture back to my childhood and begin writing stories again. My imagination has been kept trapped for far too long. It is time to unleash it. The poor world will not know what is in store for them. Beware.