Touchstone Moments

As a writer, I have had a few important moments in my life that shaped how I write, my purpose for writing, as well as my interest in writing.

When I entered sixth grade, I was given the task to choose an elective. My days, up to now, usually consisted of a very strict schedule of math to history to science to English, with the occasional PE, art, or music class. I always loved English most though, geeking over grammar and singing about stories. So, when sixth grade hit, I had all of the options, but I wanted to sway towards an English elective, as that was my favorite. And I chose creative writing. I don’t really know what initially drew me to this class, as the extent of my writing knowledge was focused on paragraphs (particularly the green-yellow-red concept), but as soon as we began the course, I was hooked. On my first day in my creative writing elective, it was just me and one other girl. I went to a relatively small school, so this wasn’t too surprising, but the one-on-one time I received from my teacher was invaluable. We did all sorts of pieces, some focusing on longer stories that highlighted imagery, and others that were poems that you could read forwards and backwards and receive dual-meanings. We would always work on different projects on paper and pencil, editing in red ink, and finalized our words at the computer labs. My love for writing was initially spurred in this class. After my adventure while taking creative writing, I made the goal that I wanted to be an author.

I continued to strive towards my dream all throughout middle school. When I was about to enter high school, and my friends and I were registering for our classes, the opportunity arose of joining an art program within the high school. The classes were project based and the student size was small, plus all of my friends were joining, so I figured, why not? The problem was that you had to audition and I was not artistic. I could not draw, paint, or sculpt. I could not sing, dance, or act. So, I decided to focus on what I loved best: writing. I created a portfolio in a scrapbook, showcasing all of my favorite pieces of writing. From stories about my cat and poems about the color orange, sure to include pieces from my sixth grade creative writing class, I loved the final product of my scrapbook. When I had completed the portfolio, having spent what felt like days on perfecting it, my “audition” was to read a couple of my pieces in front of a panel. I was so nervous, stumbling over words and mixing up sentences, I was sure I had not gotten in. A couple weeks later, I received an email, signifying that I had gotten in to the program! I was ecstatic to continue my writing journey. Looking back on that portfolio now (which I still have), the writing was as great as you could expect from a sixth-grade student just beginning her dream to become an author. However, looking back on that portfolio, I see a girl that loved to write. And that would not always remain the case.

The first two years of high school, I continued my journey with writing. I loved all the things I wrote, as the art program was a little more lenient on allowing your essays to be on the more creative side. My junior year, I entered my first Advanced Placement (AP) class. While this class, and the rest of my English AP classes throughout high school, were more appropriately academically challenging for me, they halted my creativity. I began to write the way I knew the teacher wanted me to. And instead of writing to become an author, I began writing to get a good grade. I went from writing about the symbolism in To Kill A Mockingbird in my funky, creative way, to begrudgingly rushing through an essay on the rhetorical devices in The Heart of Darkness. While I understood the value of this analysis in my class, I was doing it in the A-B-C kind of way in order to produce a product that was acceptable for my teacher. The five-paragraph, intro-body-conclusion, was my mantra, and I began to dread writing. Instead of spending days on a piece to perfect its creative quirks, I would hurriedly do an assignment (on my iPad?!) the night before and submit it.

Now, I’m not saying that I hate writing with a passion, but I’m also not saying that I loved it as much as I first began. But I can definitely say that I do not want to be an author anymore. I find writing – while entirely cathartic and valuable to everyday life – extremely frustrating. Despite all of my struggles with writer’s block and essay flow, writing is the most useful tool I have ever been taught. Through these touchstone moments, I have become the writer that I am now, and I am sure that as I continue writing, my development will continue as well.