I am trying to become a writer.
It’s funny to say it like that because up until recently I believed that in order to be a writer, one simply had to write. If I’ve learned anything in the past few months, as I work at a magazine, tutor students at a writing center, and spend countless hours composing college essays, it’s that while writing is an art that can come naturally, there is no such thing as too much experience.
I wanted to be a writer in part because I felt like it was something I was good at, and furthermore that it was something I could excel at. But more importantly, I love the way words across a page have the ability to make us feel things. I love the way that gaps in understanding, communication, and the human experience can be bridged through writing. I love the way mankind has allowed words to become about exploring oneself through the adventures, exploits, and discoveries of characters. A combination of passion, determination, and fascination have brought me to this point. It’s a learning experience.
At no point in time should a person perfect their craft. There’s nothing more pathetically boring than a person who thinks they’ve got something down to a science. Life shouldn’t be about achieving absolute perfection, it should be about raising the bar just a fraction every day, so that as you climb you are always working towards bettering yourself and reaching higher goals. That’s why I continue to write.
After a few failed stories, a failed blogging attempt (I was preoccupied), some harsh criticism from a teacher, and several months worth of writers’ block, I’m still pushing myself every day to succeed at what I enjoy most. This blog is about that journey, and so much more.
I’m 20 years old and still being an adult feels foreign to me entirely. I know the journeys a person embarks on in this part of life have a lasting impact on the person they finally become. I want to write all of that down.