Writing is like falling: falling in love, falling off a cliff, falling down. It takes a leap of faith and letting go of inhibitions. I have never been adept at either. Writing is something that has always come naturally to me; conveying my inner feelings is not. It leaves me conflicted and confused on most attempts. I would love to be able to write everything I feel and think, and while part of me wants others to know who I am inside, part of me wonders what they will think—will they like me?
In general when I write, I try to think of a theme and build the paper around it. Not a theme as in a topic sentence; but rather, an abstract idea, from which I can build concrete thoughts relating to the message or tone I wish to convey in the paper. Think metaphors…. Other times I think of song lyrics or a line from a book that especially strikes me. I have found these to be good starting points for almost any assignment.
I can recall the first of dozens of papers I have composed in the BALS program. I was so nervous as I placed it in the drop box. I was surprised that my grade was passable. My writing has grown as a result of practice, of course, but also by simply experiencing life. I was terrified my writing would be a shadow of what it was in high school (I fancied myself a gifted scribe back then). Was I ever mistaken. Recently I found a binder of some of my senior year creative writing assignments. Suffice it to say that I am a much improved writer.
While the bulk of my writing is for a grade, the writing I most enjoy is short and to the point. I love to text and take pride in the fact that my punctuation and spelling are correct and un-abbreviated. Though I have not tallied it, I must write pages per day, but my brother is the writer of the family. A professional—trained by degree and experience. He gets paid to do it, and he is good at it. It is his natural gift. I think it may be mine, too. I just haven’t opened it, yet.
