Live Inspired

I remember the moment I decided I wanted to be a writer.

It was when I was thirteen. I was in my freshman year of high school and I’d just read what I thought was the best book ever made (Cate Tiernan’s sweep series, book 1). Now I’d always loved reading, I was that kid that always had a book in her hands. Do you remember when you were in elementary school and your teachers made you read for at least thirty minutes every night for homework? I do. I LOVED IT. I would rather read a book than do chores. I remember my mom grounded me from reading one time when I was in the sixth grade; my teacher thought my mom was nuts.

Anyway, back to my moment.

After reading this book something was different. I felt energized. I wanted nothing more than to be a writer. I wanted to be just like Tiernan. I wanted to write a book, any book, just because I knew I could.

I remember all through freshman year I carried this yellow spiral notebook. I never put it down. I remember writing day and night, of writing when I should be doing homework, writing during class, on the bus, at lunch, anywhere and everywhere. I remember finally getting to the end of my story and thinking ‘Wow, I did it; now what?’

I was so excited of having written something I gave that story to my English teacher, Mr. Holloway. I asked him to read it. I was so nervous to know what he thought of it. I wanted to know, could I have a future as a writer? So I waited; it took a day or two but he read it. I remember going in one day during lunch to ask him what he thought and I was so surprised by what he said. He told me I did a good job. He said my story was actually really good, of course I’d made grammatical errors and a few spelling mistakes, but I had a good story. He encouraged me to keep writing and even suggested reading books by other authors and that if I did that I would get even better.

THAT was the moment that I knew I could do it. That was the moment I knew one day I’d be a writer. I could write a book. Hell, I could write one hundred books, I just had to keep writing.

Over the years I kept writing small tid-bits here and there. I took a creative writing class in high school, wrote a few short stories and got a good grade. I had one of my poems published in my high schools literary magazine, now that was amazing. Id’ never been more proud. I made friends with people who loved writing, art, and music. We shared ideas, stories, and supported each other’s dreams. Those friends introduced me to the world of role playing. Of working with others to build stories with our own characters and in our own worlds. I’ve got a bunch of old notebooks full of RPs from back then. I’ve even got a binder with a fan fiction that’s 300+ pages that I wrote with my best friend from high school (which reminds me I owe her a call).

Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I’d never picked up that book. If I’d never wrote my first story and received encouragement to keep at it. What would I be striving for? I have no idea; maybe I’d be a chef? I do know that writing is a big part of my life. It is something that I’ve always enjoyed doing and though it has been a while since I’ve really written anything new I know I can. So this is the first step to getting back to what I love. It’s time for me to pick up that pen and start writing. If the byproduct of my writing just so happens to be a good story, book worthy or otherwise, so be it.