Writing is a Journey

Just a brief overview I wrote of my writing journey through the years.

Writing is a journey. From childhood and on, I have been writing.
I grew up writing stories of flying mermaids and gardens with magical golden roses, lost talking puppy dogs and wishing wells, princesses and magical stuffed animals. As a very young girl, I wrote “ripots” on varying things such as “mi birtdae” and “pocahonts”. I occasionally kept journals, but never for very long. I wrote newspapers for my family and sold them for a quarter each.
I still remember writing my first-ever real paragraph for a teacher that would actually grade it. I thought for a long time on a subject, and then carefully and thoughtfully typed out the words. I sent it to my older sister in college to proof-read, and used her corrections. I printed it out and stapled its two pages of double-spaced 12 pt. font, and tenderly placed it in my English 9 folder. I proudly read it aloud in class, rejoicing over the smoothness of the words flowing from one sentence to the next. I received full marks.
I once wrote a letter to a magazine I subscribed to. Every issue has letters from readers commenting on articles and suggesting themes for new ones. I recall opening that issue, and reading the letters. As I started to read one of them, I feared that someone had stolen my topic of discussion. There had been an interesting article on Houdini, and there had also been another article on “mediums” or “ghost whisperers”. The inspiration to write the letter had come from the memory of once reading in a book about Houdini that he and his wife had made a code to try and see if they could communicate with one another when one was dead and the other living.
I had relayed these thoughts regarding Houdini and his wife’s attempt to communicate in my letter. And so, as I read the very similar letter in the magazine, I realized it was the same type of comments as mine had been! I read on, becoming more and more shocked as I went. Had someone else beaten me to the punch? I couldn’t believe it! I was livid! And then, humbly, I came upon the closing. Sincerely, Emily P. Oh. J
Ah, the time I first decided for once and for all that I wanted to be a writer. That I wanted to create stories that took you on a journey you could hardly imagine without skillful assistants and that would whirl you around before dropping you safely back in your cozy living room. It was yet again fall, and school was upon us. In Mrs. Smith’s English 10 class, in fact, was where the fateful worksheet was handed out. The first secret of scintillating sentences, it said, is addition. We were given simple, run of the mile, blah and ho-hum sentences. We were told to transform them and transform them I did. From a simple four-word sentence Brandon captivated the class I wrote a five line masterpiece of marvels and tear-jerking sentiments that was completely grammatically correct.
And though I have searched my computer and folder, the paper is not to be found. Funny, isn’t it, how the important little things like that just disappear? I suppose that is how it was with Picasso’s childhood paintings, Bach’s first draft of his greatest symphony, and the elementary school book report of C.S. Lewis. But truly, it was this work of creativity and challenge that fueled within me the passion of an artist. I had long wondered what I would do with my life. Would I be a doctor, a photographer, a teacher, an actor? Or perhaps a performer on Broadway, a lawyer, a beautician, or even a Disney princess? All my life I had wondered, but now I knew for sure. No matter what other occupation might catch my fancy briefly, I would always be a writer.
And perhaps the biggest writing challenge I had faced yet. National novel writing month, or NaNoWriMo. I was being challenged to write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November. It was a daunting task, to say the least. It started optimistically, despite the fact that I was plot-less. I had but a singular thought in my mind: a wingless fairy named Graylin. And yet, somehow, I was able to scrape 50,213 words from it. 50,213 words regarding several supporting characters, a villain, a bitter and resentful side character, two magical trees, fairy dust, determination, death, failure, perseverance, and a very important dictionary. I wrote 11,000 words in one Saturday near the end, in determination to finish the goal in time. And I did.
Writing is a journey, and there is mine. From childhood “ripots” to elementary magazine letters being published, scintillating sentences, and a novel, thus flows my journey of the pen. And surely it is a journey that will continue on and someday take wing and fly.