I can’t recall at what age I started to write. As I child I loved to read and that desire to live in another’s shoes still remains true.
The earliest memory of writing was when I entered a state poetry contest in third grade upon the suggestion of my teacher, Mrs. Hamp. She was an amazing teacher and I believe fostered my love of reading.
It is much easier to read than to write. But the need to express oneself is strong and I have found it easier to write my feelings down and edit them than to speak them. There is something powerful about the release of emotions onto the surface of a blank piece of paper through the medium of ink via one’s hands that creates a physical manifestation of emotion into written word. The creation of words is sometimes eclipsed by the need to destroy them. Ripping the paper up after bearing myself was at many times one way to remove any power those words and those emotions may have had over me.
For me writing is the creation and destruction of one’s self. Words can be used against you and yet they are part of creation and necessary to express.
At times having a weekly assignment to write has been great and at others more difficult as I attempt to find the words to achieve the task. Regardless of how I may feel about my writing, writing has and will continue to have a place in my life.