Ever since the end of sixth grade, I started to keep a journal, which possessed my deepest thoughts, opinions, and feelings that one could not imagine from me. It was later found by only my friend when I was sleeping over his house. He then began to tell me that my outspoken personality can really make everyone think twice. So, when I got home that very next day, I took out another notebook, which I still have today, which is filled with all the possible ideas for stories, essays, poetry and so much more than you could possibly imagine.
It began in the seventh grade when I was having trouble “fitting in” with the people in my school, who I unfortunately dread calling them peers of mine. So, when I couldn’t comprehend the reason why they bared such torture on people who weren’t like them, I started writing about it, whether it was in a humorous way, or in a very immense way to keep everyone thinking. I wrote about how I hated how I was being treated and looked down upon. I wrote about how I wanted them to take their eyes off of their section of the picture, and look at the big picture, so they could accept me for who I am and not what I’m supposed to be.
So then it began- I began writing about experiences I faced in school, both good and bad. Each piece got better and better when I wrote. I started to realize I didn’t want to be like them at all. So, there began a new turning point of my life, as I began to think out of the box, and not concentrate on writing what I wish would happen, but what is the reality of the world.
So, I began to read my friend’s pieces of writing and soon enough, I began a story about my life and experiences through school. It was going great until I couldn’t think anymore, hence, writers block. Whenever I have writers block, I just sit at my computer, with Microsoft Word open, staring at a blank screen. Nothing changes and nothing happens. When I want to attempt to get rid of writers block, I just can’t. I suppose that’s one of the things that I dislike the most about me being a writer- being restricted, due to a small amount of imagination for the day, week, or even month. It gets frustrating.
But, whenever I don’t have writers block, I usually write, write, and write. It doesn’t matter where or how I do it, but I don’t remember a day since the end of seventh grade, that I have never written something, whether it was a short paragraph for a website I’m apart of, or three pages. I look at my writing as someone else’s. I like the way that I keep everything flowing in an orderly fashion, support with detail, using metaphors, similes, and much more.
Over the years, and as you probably have guessed, I have written so many things; however, not all completed. I have written persuasive essays for school which had to be done, poetry, non-fiction (or what I would consider non-fiction), short stories, and poetry. I have always tried to try everything possible. The persuasive essays that I have written were forced upon me, which I really didn’t like. I suppose anything that is forced upon me that comes from school especially and has requirements and a deadline that’s only a day or so away, I can’t think that quickly, but it is possible. And whenever I do essays in just a day, I usually don’t do that good of a job and get a lower grade.
That brings up another point. I notice when I have to do something, there’s always something that makes me want to do good, too good, that I sometimes unintentionally screw it all up. For instance, I had to write an essay about who should be remembered on President’s Day. I did it in one day (stupid of me, yes, I know), and thought it was great (or at least what I thought was great). I took it to my social studies teacher and she thought it was great, but when it came around to my language arts teacher, she made a lot of corrections on it. I was a little confused, but I made some of the changes. I didn’t want to go back and change my entire essay to a point that I know that I didn’t write it. I need to know that I wrote it, and not someone else. So, when I did that, I got a lower grade, but I really didn’t care, for I wanted to be true to myself as a writer.
When I think about my future, writing has always been in the top three things that I want to pursue when I go into college, but I never really thought about what I wanted to write. When I look back on some of my short stories, for the first twenty pages, they’re good, but when I get to the last fifteen, I can’t believe how terrible it is compared to the beginning. Then, when I write poetry, it’s mostly depressing, which totally blows my self-esteem up. When I look into the non-fiction pieces I’ve written, I can’t see myself writing about something like relationships and such, without getting a degree of some sort in psychology. And when I write things for a website I’m on, mostly journalism, I know that I can do something like that, but people aren’t going to like my opinion.
When thinking about what I want to become, I looked back into some of my earlier work from when I was in the fourth and fifth grade. I realized that I hated writing and with a passion. I didn’t do a very good job doing anything. On some of the things I’ve done, I scribbled things out and corrected them now. I shake my head, thinking how far I’ve come and grown from what was.
I think the major “cultural shock” was when I began eighth grade, with a passion and a will to write for fun, and also to impress my friends, but not my teachers. When I finally decided, “What the heck,” I shared a lot what I’ve written with my teacher. She was impressed and told me that I was doing great. So, what did I do, I began to write more and more, more detailed and descriptive, and overall, had fun while doing it.
My writing has changed drastically when I entered eighth grade. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to write, especially since we had a notebook to write everything in. That was my basic foundation of my writing. Each day, or whenever I could, I wrote something in it and when I look back at what I wrote then, and what I know I can write now, I’ve impressed myself. I can writer longer pieces, I can write with emotion and not just because I have to, I can do so much more with myself.
Someone asked me the question, “What do you know now that you did not know before?” Well, I could answer that in two ways, one being what, and the other being me (which the most important in my perspective). I didn’t know that I can apply myself so much to something that I hated when I was younger. I didn’t know that I had an incredible craft to let things go and keep writing until my hand hurt of cramps, or when I was actually done with a piece of writing. But, when I think about what I learned, I learned most of it on my own with a little help here and there. I didn’t need a teacher standing over my shoulder, telling me what this is, and what this wasn’t.
When I write, I don’t usually write because I’m forced to, but because I want to. I’ve never said “no” to anything that I was assigned to. I didn’t give up as soon as I heard what the assignment was. I’m not like that. I don’t give up whatsoever. I can’t even think of a time that I didn’t do something. That should say something, not just as me being a writer, but me as a human being. I am too determined to do something at times.
The last thing that I want you to know about me as a writer is how much time and dedication I put into everything that I do. Like I just said, I never say never to anything that comes along my way. I could spend up to three hours writing the first couple paragraphs of something that I’ve written. That’s how much time I put into things, especially things that are going to be read by others.
I hope by reading this, you understand what type of person I am, but most important, what type of writer I am. I’m looking forward to meeting you next year.
This is my essay to my high school honors teachers, just in case you wanted to know.