I love writing. No one can take that love from me. It did not start three years ago after reading a book* that I loved. It started in 3rd grade when I wrote my first stories, published as hardback with cardboard and wallpaper. It started in 6th grade when I wrote an essay for a national contest and won $5000 for my school’s meager library. It started in 10th grade when I read classics** and learned how to write critical thinking essays about the themes in a book. It started in my 12th grade British Lit class when we did a section on poetry. I wrote about trees, clouds, boys, sports. Poems about life. It lay dormant, but growing, as I spent years reading everything, honing my interests to a certain genre. I love Young Adult***.
Stories about young love, first love. Stories about young heroes, new ideals, and hope. I love when words on a page have the ability to make me cry, laugh, swoon, and understand. I am a writer. I let words flow through me, filling holes I didn’t know I had, opening areas of creativity that I long for. I love the written word. I am a writer.
* Edenbrooke by Julianne Donaldson. I read this book and it was a breath of fresh air. I loved everything about it. I met the author and knew right then that I needed to write as well. I named the character in my first book after that author.
**Classics I read in 10th grade: Lord of the Flies and To Kill a Mockingbird
***Look for my “Why I Love YA” post coming soon.
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