Childhood Dreams
Writing has quite literally been part of most my life. I can still picture the excitement I felt each day, running home after getting off the school bus, just to hit the power button and wait for dial-up to give me a place to write faster. That Windows 97 background didn’t bother me as much as it does now.
In the beginning I thought it was amazing I could paint in my head; since my true artistic skills were limited to the step just above stick figures. Writing was second nature — depicting the scenes playing in my head — it was my kind of art.
No matter where I traveled or who I was with, there was always a notebook and a pen within arms reach so I could jot down whatever came to mind. If I wanted to disappear for a while, all that had to be done was turn a page.
Stories — like Harry Potter — were new and gaining a massive following for the incredible storytelling. The belief that if I kept writing, I could one day have a best seller like J.K. Rowling, kept me motivated to continue learning. I paid attention in every English class, opted for a creative writing class once, and somehow convinced my dad to pay for a writing course at the art gallery downtown.
The truth is, I don’t know what life is like without writing.
It’s Not Easy Putting Down Some Words
The stories I wrote as a kid would never stand up today on their own binding. As I grew a bit older, I realized half of what I wrote sounded awful. Mistakes were jumping off the page and it seemed like a waste to continue to edit something that would never be good enough or to flesh out an idea that seemed so absurd for someone my age to be writing. So I switched over to journaling. I continued to write, but no longer cared about whether it was proper. Instead I poured onto the page the thoughts that crowded my brain every day and sat with each emotion. Writing was still my favorite thing to do, even though I was no longer creating fantasy-fueled stories.
Journaling was a time of self-reflection; I had a lot mental health issues I neglected in my late teens and early twenties. Putting it down in a journal was a temporary therapy, with a version of myself sat in a fancy armchair opposite me. (I actually wrote a flash fiction piece with that image in mind).
It also helped me understand the very fiber of what it means to be human. These thoughts taking up space in my head could now be rearranged like a puzzle, until each piece was in the right place. Which is just a fancy way of saying: I could finally think critically about who I was and fix the behaviors that no longer served me.
10/10 recommend for everyone. If you’ve never written in a journal, this is your call to action: start writing in one today. You can write about whatever comes to mind; long, short, it doesn’t matter. With this kind of writing, don’t beat yourself up for only writing one sentence. Don’t beat yourself up for skipping a couple days — make up for it by writing when you need it.
You Could Never Make A Living With Some Words
Now we’re here. It’s 2023 and I’m almost thirty. You’d think by now I would learn my lesson that making money from writing is about as possible as winning the lottery. Unless you have some stroke of genius or meet the right people — good luck!
I’m still going to try anyway.
Though my father always encouraged me to keep writing and even suggested writing a book on how my parents divorce affected me, it never seemed like a Plan A. I knew early on that writing takes a long time and it’s not something you can make a living off of, unless you’re really popular.
My response to that was to attend a fancy art school that would boost me to the top. I took a tour of the university and fell in love. After spending two and a half years in their Creative Writing program, I realized I wasn’t learning anything I didn’t already know.
It was uninspiring — much different than their fun tour, touting the best equipment to make stories come to life and make you believe that’s what you need in that moment. (Okay, but what about the quality of teaching?) They threw out popular Hollywood names they’ve collaborated with whenever given the chance and then I understood — this was a place for networking. You’re paying to have someone introduce you to the right people and that’s not what I was looking for in a school. I wanted to learn how to make my writing even better.
The Journey Is The Reward
I was looking for a teacher that would give me some kind of guidance on what to work on. There’s definitely no shortage of people on the internet telling you quick tips to make it as a writer online. At first, I thought the key was to listen to them and one day I’d be that person behind the screen, raking in the dough, with someone reading my stuff. But over the past couple years I realized how tunnel-visioned that view was.
Not every post is going to go viral.
Not every post is going to resonate with each who reads it.
But some posts will inspire.
Some will captivate a huge audience.
Some, a small audience.
It’s never going to be the same as the person next to you, but that doesn’t mean you’re going nowhere. Writing is a journey that doesn’t end until we’re six feet under or dissipating in a ceremonial pyre. Although there are a million voices claiming to have answers — remember that you’re only part way through your path. Each time you put pen to paper or hit another keystroke, you’re a writer.
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