I've been writing here and there for as long as I can remember but only seriously started trying to make an art of it for the past two years. After I graduated last May, I was tearing through one of those "find your bliss" type of books and realized what a fool I've been to have ignored this passion for so long.
I love my field of study, but it has never felt like this. I wish I could say more eloquently what I mean by that, but it's such a bone-deep feeling that I just can't put it into words. It's like jumping off a cliff and wondering if you'll fly or sink into the deep blue ocean - and jumping anyway. Just for the thrill. For the sliver a chance that it's not all for naught. For the soul.
Lately, I have started to wonder when my love affair with words began. Was it when I started keeping journals of god-awful turned mediocre poems? Perhaps it goes back further, to the now hilariously bad story my friend and I submitted to the Chicken Soup powers that be. We wrote about how our basketball team rallied around our teammate to get her rides to and from school after she moved, in an effort to keep her from transferring schools. We had to read it in front of all of our teachers. Now we drag it out and laugh at it when we're feeling nostalgic.
Then there's writing in it's purest form, just letters on a page. My high school and college notebooks were littered with half stories, song lyrics, choppy poems. Anything that would just let me write.
Being an introvert, words have always held a different type of complexity for me, too. I often say less than I mean and I have been lucky enough to have found something that lets me mean exactly what I say.
Further back were my short lived young author days; clans of unicorn families were the main attraction there. But even before that was when I fell in love with stories. Harry Potter. The Boxcar Children. The Last Wolf of Ireland (which should not - in any way, in any shape or form - be a children's book, as no 3rd grader should be left to sob in her bed reading about a dying wolf; really! Just seeing the book cover has me choking back sobs.) I am Morgan Le Fay. The stories that encapsulated my childhood.
Reading begets writing for me. Other people's imaginations churning my own into a fire storm.
Even before that, though, were the stories my mom and I would write back before I knew how to write a single letter. I only remember flashes of them now. A ghost. A flood and a dove. Fiction and nonfiction.
Stories have always been in my head - my mom says I was born that way. Writing, it seems, was a natural fit. My first true love.
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