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Monday, March 16, 2015

Write On!

I'm still feeling a little bit under the weather, so enjoy this flashback edition of the blog with a piece written four years ago while I continue to recover from the stomach flu.  Thanks for understanding, everyone.

I don't think I could possibly imagine a world without writing.
Writing for me is not only a skill that I'm proud to have learned. It's been so much more than that. It's artistic. It's empowering. It's therapeutic. It's sexy!

No, seriously. Women who know how to write turn me on. Women who know how to write well turn me on more.

But, enough about my tastes.

I couldn't imagine my life without being able to write. When I was younger, I always demanded to have a box of 64 crayons, or a package of PaperMate pens, or even a bundle of No. 2 pencils on hand at all times. I also went to Walmart (or Woolco as it was known as prior to 1994) practically every other week to buy a package of lined paper (the one that had 250 sheets in it). As long as I had paper and some sort of writing utensil, I was one happy kid.

Oh, but I very rarely drew pictures of things. Sure, when I could get into the mood, I could do arts and crafts projects. Not as well as DaVinci, Picasso, or that guy from the UK show "Art Attack" mind you, but it was presentable. Instead, I chose to use my paper and crayons to draw my own storybooks. Whereas most kids spent long summer afternoons swimming at St. Lawrence park or riding their bikes to the ice cream stand, I was just as content lying on my bedroom floor or sitting on the back porch, writing down everything that went through my mind, whether it made sense or not.

I enjoyed writing way before I decided to improve my penmanship. As a result, had some of my earliest writings survived, you'd probably have a difficult time reading it. But, hey, nobody said that a four year old was ever going to win a Pulitzer prize for literature anyways.

So, why was I so into writing from such an early age? It could be for a number of reasons. I was always interested in words and books and reading, and naturally, a love for writing likely originated from that. I had a really vivid and somewhat overactive mind when I was a kid, and I guess my parents subconsciously decided that keeping me stocked up in office supplies was a good option compared to some of the other brattier things I used to do (a.k.a. taking things from my older sisters and destroying them).
Although...come to think of it, that didn't really work either because when I ran out of paper, I'd grab my favourite purple pencil crayon and write on the walls...

I think the main reason why I fell in love with writing so much is very similar to the reason why I haven't given up my other childhood hobby of collecting comic books.

Writing was an escape.

Whenever I was feeling terrible about how things were going, or whenever I felt like I had nobody to talk to, all I had to do was grab a pen and paper and just write about it. Sometimes, I'd write about me having fun somewhere else other than where I was, or in some rare cases, I'd create friends to hang out with. Because in my crazy world of writing, anything was possible.

And, anything could be possible. With writing, I have the power of millions of words that when put together can create infinite scenarios, trials, tribulations, and celebrations. No matter what mood I was in, I could always find the right words to use to set the tone of the story or poem. Writing assignments always came naturally to me in school. Whether it was writing a book report, typing up a history essay or putting together an independent study, if it involved writing, those kinds of projects I found fun. Most kids in my class used to grimace and cringe when they were given a writing assignment. Not me. I actually was the type of kid who would complain that we weren't given enough writing assignments in school. I would have gladly given up gym period, math period and skipped every recess from 1988-1993 for the opportunity to partake in a school for writing. I loved it that much.
I LOVE it that much.

My love for writing is ironically enough one that I find great difficulty expressing with a whole bunch of words. It's just there. Some people get great joy from fixing cars, or building homes, or dancing in a Broadway musical. Writing for me brings me that joy, and if I ever found myself in a situation where I couldn't write for whatever reason, it would be my own personal hell on earth.
I can't live life without having the power of writing. Writing gives me the power to be whoever I want to be.

I wouldn't have been able to post twelve dozen notes on this Facebook profile page if I didn't like writing. In some ways, I almost wish I could solely communicate with people through my writing, because I find myself much easier to understand writing things down as I would talking with someone face to face. Of course, this is almost an impossible situation, so I won't entertain that further.

I've always been fascinated with the art of writing. When I wrote that short story called "A History Of Friendship" two months ago, I was completely blown away by the amount of positive comments as a result from it. And, I was inspired by the great commentary over it. I was so inspired that I ended up sending in the short story to the Archie Comics e-mail address to see if they were interested in at least reading it. Unfortunately, I don't know if they got the actual message, as I haven't heard anything from them. But, you think that's going to discourage me? Not in the slightest.
If anything, having gone through rejection of my work beforehand is nothing new. It only serves to make me work harder for it. It's true. I have a really bad habit of proofreading my own work obsessively. I may very well be considered a little OCD over it because I absolutely cringe if I make spelling or grammar errors in any of the writing work I do. It doesn't matter whether it's a 50-page story or a simple subject line in an e-mail message. It's just the way I've always been. All that has benefitted me and my writing style. Because I'm so tough on myself, and because I keep raising my standards, I've allowed myself to improve on my writing skills. Am I absolutely perfect? Not quite. But I am on the right track.

I just feel that right now at this moment (especially after the recent health scares I've had to deal with) that I know I can be a fantastic writer. Some may say that I already am, but again, I know I could be better. Life is constantly changing and evolving, and just as life has done for me, it's time to write the next chapter of my autobiography. It could go either way. I could end up writing a best selling novel, win a whole bunch of accolades and literary awards and be the next J.K. Rowling, Stephen King, or John Grisham. On the other hand, I could be a complete washout as a novelist and people ignore my work more than Harlequin romance novels.
Either way, I'm not sorry that I have the power to write.

I consider my writing skills to be a real gift. I'd love nothing more than to be able to share that gift with other people, but if it so happens that all people read are my little ramblings here on my profile page, so be it.

I plan on writing everything that comes into my mind until the day I leave this world. That's a promise I'll never break.

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