Books are my passion, my life, and my source for wisdom. I learned, from an early age, the power that paper and ink can produce. They have hidden messages between those lines on the pages. The author spent hours and hours creating a perfect work of literature, and shares the finished copy with the readers.
I spent a good portion of my life writing, and I have dreams of being a published authoress. I have been writing since I could write. I started out with short haikus and simple rhymes. As I grew older, my writing grew too. Now, as a junior in high school, I made sure I had classes that would allow me to write freely and express my views, opinions, and perspectives I am enrolled in Advanced Program Language and Composition, Newspaper staff, and Creative Writing.
I was writing a novel under a pen name. As a writer, I have gone through a rough time, times rougher than writer’s block. There was a period of six to eight months when I didn’t write. I didn’t even look at my documents. This was last year, and I abandoned my writing at the strict request of my mother. When summer of 2008 rolled around, I was amped up to continue the story. I sat in my computer chair the day school ended for summer, looking at the document on my screen. It took me two weeks to complete one page. On a good day, I can hit up to ten a day and to struggle to write a page in two weeks was unbearable.
I had lost the fire that kept me going when I was writing. I was upset with myself, for losing the driving spark that I once had. I didn’t write for the rest of that summer. I made myself a promise that I would relearn to love to write. I was ready to do anything, so I came up with a plan. Now, I’m back in school, and I made sure I was in classes that could help me love writing again.
The classes certainly restarted the fire that coursed through my writing heart. Now, I’m back to writing my novel daily during my spare time. And I will not let anyone put out that fire again in the future, not even my mother. Because my destiny is embedded with literature, and nothing shall not separate me and my love for writing without consequences.
I had learned that a person cannot tell you what you can’t do if it’s is inspired by life. And that a person cannot say that I can’t do what I love to do. Telling some they cannot be who they are is the eighth sin.
If you enjoyed this essay, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to This I Believe, Inc.