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I’ve been writing since I learned what a pencil was. My second grade teacher,Mrs. Snyder, would call me Harriet the Spy, in reference to the popular book, as I would carry a journal with me everywhere and would constantly be writing in it. That journal was an extension of my limb, it was part of me. It was what made me a writer.
The day one decides to be a writer is one of the most influential in life. It is the day where life come to color and you realize that you can use your words for expression. It is the day when you no longer have to keep to yourself, you can leave a mark.
Everyone writes for different reasons. Some write for no one, some write to make an impact, some write for fame, some write for entertainment, and some write to write. You cannot make a broad general statement about why people write, because no two people do it for the exact same reasons. I started writing because I found it enjoyable and just never stopped. However, at the ripe age of eighteen, I’ve started writing for a different reason. I write to express how I feel, to let others know that they aren’t alone. You are seeing the result of that right here.
When I feel angry or sad, I find solace in writing. Last year I wrote a letter to my dog, who had recently passed. I did not write the post to gain sympathy or anything of the sort. Rather, I wrote it to sort out my own feelings. Losing someone who has meant the world to you your entire life is incredibly hard on the heart, and the only way for me to deal with the pain was to write about it. And while the pain did not go away, my head was clearer. Writing helped me move past that horrible time in my life.
When exciting or life-changing revelations come to me, I feel the need to share what I’ve learned with others. My article on Huffington Post this week was a different style from my usual, but I was dealing with something I was having trouble putting into words. I have grown up so much in the last year, and if you know me, you’ve seen it. I am not the same person I was last January, and the person I am now is so much more vibrant and happier because I discovered myself. And when that revelation hit me over Thanksgiving, I thought it ample time to talk about my own self-discovery and pride in growing into myself. That is why it is called “Seven Inches Later: A Growing Up Story.” I grew up and felt the need to write about it.
As writers we all have different reasons for putting the contents of our heads out for others to see. Why I might feel the need to write about the loss of my dog, some might find that ridiculous. What non-writers do not understand is that writing is an almost spiritual thing for writers. It is our religion. It is what we hold dear and true to ourselves, and no one can take it away from us. If there is one thing that I believe, it is that writing will always be a part of my life.
Writing, especially in the public eye, can gain hate, but you have to ignore it. Not everyone is going to understand how you view the topic you are writing on. We read with our own prejudices, and no two people view the same piece of writing the same. That is why, as writers, we write for ourselves and for our own prejudices. If we were writing for someone else, we would hate our own writing.
In the fall I was sitting in my dorm room with one of my uni friends. She is someone who doesn’t enjoy writing and she was curious as to why I have such a passion for it. I explained it to her as, “Imagine there was a movie in your head that only you had seen and no one else could see and it was your job to share it with everyone. It is the passion to share that movie through your own words that is the passion to write. You see this story and feel the pull to share it.” That is the best way I can describe writing. It is the passion to let everyone know the story inside your brain.
Now that you have read this post, I hope that all the non-writers have discovered the reason for writing and have maybe reconsidered giving the whole pen-to-paper thing a try. Only you have the power to share what is in your head, so how are you going to do it?
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