It is really hard to simplify my life as a write and condense it into a blog post, but, oddly enough, it also equally as difficult to really quantify it enough to meet the required length of that same aforementioned blog post. To expound a little bit upon a possible reason as to why this duality exists, I would have to say that it probably has something to do with how I have been writing for most of my life now but I would not really go so far as to call myself a writer. This is not to say that I never had aspirations of becoming a writer and sharing my thoughts and ideas with the world, but I grew up in classes with teachers who either implicitly, explicitly, or both insinuated that only a select few individuals could be writers and even fewer could be successful writers. This had always seemed odd to me because everyone I knew wrote, so why was it that none of them could be writers. However, I also grew up being told things like, “The teacher is always right,” and, “Do not question authority.” While I may have found it within me to buck the reins of the all-powerful teacher figure, I still have yet to really find the confidence within myself to stand up and say, “Yes, I am a writer.”
With that being said, I was one of those kids that liked to write about anything and everything that interested me. I remember one summer I just wanted to copy down entries out of a journal and then the following school year I was obsessed with writing short nonfiction works about different creatures that live in the rainforest. While I naturally lost interest in the dictionary entries, I have to admit that I was essentially forced to stop writing about the rainforest animals. If I recall correctly, my teacher came up to me one day after I had finished my most recent nonfiction piece and told me that I had to start writing about other things. I do not think that she ever really gave me a reason why other than the always implied, “I know what is best for you so just shut up and take my word for it.” After that, well… I never had the same interest in just writing about what I wanted to write and, ever since then, I have found it difficult to journal or free write or do anything other than just complete writing assignments and hand them in for a grade.
Of course, here in class, as well as in a few other classes at Chadron State College, I have slowly, but surely, started to regain confidence in myself as someone who writes if not necessarily as a “writer”. I have kind of, sort of, maybe found some semblance of my voice in writing and have been able to tackle topics that interest me and questions that have puzzled me. I have found that I prefer to write shorter pieces than longer ones and that I prefer writing spoken word poetry or snappy monologues than essays or stories.
With that in mind, I would have to say that, as of this moment, I have not yet begun my life as a write and am, instead, still working through my life as someone who writes. Hopefully in the very near future I will be able to shrug off those last few mental blocks and really come into my own as a writer, but, for now, I still have quite a few struggles ahead of me.