Why I Write
On my "about me" section of my blog, I stated that I am an "aspiring writer." Some people may or may not know what that means. Not in the way that they are ignorant and don't know what those words literally mean, but more in the way that they don't know what it means in this context.
Let's start with the literal. To aspire mean "to long, aim, or seek ambitiously; to yearn." Basically, it means to want something so badly you can taste it and to work toward that something until you actually can taste it...much like a person running after an ice cream truck. And the word writer can have many avenues. It can simply mean a person who writes, a person who commits their thoughts to writing, or, as in most people's minds, a person who writes books or articles as an occupation or profession.
Now, the fact that I have this blog proves that I am, indeed, a writer. I am a person who writes. I also keep a diary and have for the past eleven years or so. Therefore, I am a writer. But when I state that I am an aspiring writer, I mean that I am a person who yearns to be published as a writer of novels. I have wanted this for a great deal of my life--probably about eleven years or so.
I've always been a storyteller and a lover of literature. I can remember the first book I learned how to read--a free book I got in kindergarten when they were removing books from the library called Bing about a dog named Bing, kind of a Dick and Jane type book (and some of you are probably saying, of course she remembers that...weirdo). I can remember going to the library every day when I was a kid in the summer and constantly returning books so fast that I think the librarians didn't quite know what to do. I never really wrote down my stories, but ask my siblings and cousins--the games we played were incredibly intricate. Whether we were playing with dolls, stuffed animals, or house, if Kaitlin was playing, the game became very plot-oriented. We were always some family who had to get by and keep the banker off our back as we picked corn on our farm because our parents were dead and some weird old guy wanted to marry the older sister but her one true love was off fighting in a war somewhere........ I mean, who plays games like that?
And then when I got in school, we never really wrote creatively (that I can recall) until 5th grade (the crazy imaginative games continued on even then...I believe we played "Oregon Trail" and something about Cleopatra at recess). Mrs. Swan had us write poetry, and it was the first time I had ever been really complimented on something. I wasn't athletic...I'm still not athletic. My siblings both were, and I can remember them being praised for their abilities on the ball field. My sister is an incredible singer and always has been, but when I was complimented for my writing, it felt different. There were other smart kids--other kids that got good grades. But there weren't loads of other kids in our school that wrote like I did. When I got into 6th grade, I had Mr. Masters for English. Now, say what you will about him as a teacher; going back and looking at his class from a teacher's perspective, I can only imagine what his coworkers thought. But he took us to the computer lab almost every day, and all he expected from us was a story by the time we left. He didn't care how long or what about; we just had to write. And I thought, wow! This is so cool! First of all, it's homework, which I always weirdly loved, and secondly, I get to be as creative as I want, and this teacher likes what I'm typing! Again, perhaps not the best source on what good writing was, but I firmly believe that half of being a good writer is being a reader.
Some of my friends liked to write, too, so we started writing stories together, or talking about stories that we were writing in our spare time. I have floppy discs (because not only do I remember everything, but I don't throw anything away) full of one-page stories or the beginnings of stories that never quite took off. The more I wrote, the more I started to think, "Maybe this is something I could do as a side-career...you know, after tax season is over." (at this point in my life, I wanted to be an accountant). I took a creative writing course in college, along with other English courses as is required, and every time, my teachers complimented me (I hate that I keep saying I've been complimented...it's making me feel conceited).
My writing really took off when I bought my laptop before college. Now I could type in my room where no one could come and look over my shoulder; I could write on breaks between classes or in Barnes and Noble or during class (though I never did...I would have been the kid that would have been caught). I have four finished novels on my laptop. Will they ever get published? Heck-to-the-no! They are far too rough and hastily drawn out. They aren't solid stories, though the ideas behind them are. But they certainly serve a purpose. The more I write, the better I become, and the more my own voice will appear. If you have ever been inside my classroom (or dorm room...or in a car with me) you know that I am very good at mimicking accents. As a writer, I'm also very good at mimicking writing styles. If I read Jane Austen, I write like Jane Austen. If I read Janet Evanovich, I write like Janet. But the writing-like-myself...Kaitlin's style hasn't quite emerged just yet. I'm working on it.
I feel like a writer most days, but I don't think I can call myself one yet. It would be like saying you were a professional football player before you were drafted, in my opinion. First of all, people don't think it's a real job. They're wrong--it's hard! You have voices in your head (not crazy voices telling you to light things on fire) screaming to be let out, and characters in your mind who can only be given life by you. And you know that if you just change one small piece of dialogue...if the character makes the same statement in a depressed tone of voice, the entire story could change. It's a lot of pressure to tell this character's story and do it justice. I feel like a writer when I can't sleep because I just have to get this out! This summer, while on vacation, I had a dream. This dream was so lifelike, it almost played like a movie. And I literally could think of nothing else for like three days. I didn't even have my computer with me, so I couldn't do anything about it (my fingers type closer to my brain's pace than my hand writes). Over Christmas break, I had another dream...such a vivid dream that I had physical reactions to it. I hurt where the characters hurt (like in my knees and shoulders), and my one-mindedness kicked in again; I couldn't do anything but write this story for the next several days. On Wednesday over our snow day, I worked on an old story, and I was at a very emotional scene. I myself felt physically ill; my stomach churned because I, just like the young man in the story, was dreading what was about to happen. Now if that doesn't make you a writer, I don't know what does.
Someday, maybe, there will be a book on the shelves in Barnes and Noble with my name on it (I already have my pen name picked out). I'm even thinking about maybe writing something here on this blog...like making it a series of posts where I post the "next chapter" or what not. We'll have to see; only time will tell!
Stay gold!
Let's start with the literal. To aspire mean "to long, aim, or seek ambitiously; to yearn." Basically, it means to want something so badly you can taste it and to work toward that something until you actually can taste it...much like a person running after an ice cream truck. And the word writer can have many avenues. It can simply mean a person who writes, a person who commits their thoughts to writing, or, as in most people's minds, a person who writes books or articles as an occupation or profession.
Now, the fact that I have this blog proves that I am, indeed, a writer. I am a person who writes. I also keep a diary and have for the past eleven years or so. Therefore, I am a writer. But when I state that I am an aspiring writer, I mean that I am a person who yearns to be published as a writer of novels. I have wanted this for a great deal of my life--probably about eleven years or so.
I've always been a storyteller and a lover of literature. I can remember the first book I learned how to read--a free book I got in kindergarten when they were removing books from the library called Bing about a dog named Bing, kind of a Dick and Jane type book (and some of you are probably saying, of course she remembers that...weirdo). I can remember going to the library every day when I was a kid in the summer and constantly returning books so fast that I think the librarians didn't quite know what to do. I never really wrote down my stories, but ask my siblings and cousins--the games we played were incredibly intricate. Whether we were playing with dolls, stuffed animals, or house, if Kaitlin was playing, the game became very plot-oriented. We were always some family who had to get by and keep the banker off our back as we picked corn on our farm because our parents were dead and some weird old guy wanted to marry the older sister but her one true love was off fighting in a war somewhere........ I mean, who plays games like that?
And then when I got in school, we never really wrote creatively (that I can recall) until 5th grade (the crazy imaginative games continued on even then...I believe we played "Oregon Trail" and something about Cleopatra at recess). Mrs. Swan had us write poetry, and it was the first time I had ever been really complimented on something. I wasn't athletic...I'm still not athletic. My siblings both were, and I can remember them being praised for their abilities on the ball field. My sister is an incredible singer and always has been, but when I was complimented for my writing, it felt different. There were other smart kids--other kids that got good grades. But there weren't loads of other kids in our school that wrote like I did. When I got into 6th grade, I had Mr. Masters for English. Now, say what you will about him as a teacher; going back and looking at his class from a teacher's perspective, I can only imagine what his coworkers thought. But he took us to the computer lab almost every day, and all he expected from us was a story by the time we left. He didn't care how long or what about; we just had to write. And I thought, wow! This is so cool! First of all, it's homework, which I always weirdly loved, and secondly, I get to be as creative as I want, and this teacher likes what I'm typing! Again, perhaps not the best source on what good writing was, but I firmly believe that half of being a good writer is being a reader.
Some of my friends liked to write, too, so we started writing stories together, or talking about stories that we were writing in our spare time. I have floppy discs (because not only do I remember everything, but I don't throw anything away) full of one-page stories or the beginnings of stories that never quite took off. The more I wrote, the more I started to think, "Maybe this is something I could do as a side-career...you know, after tax season is over." (at this point in my life, I wanted to be an accountant). I took a creative writing course in college, along with other English courses as is required, and every time, my teachers complimented me (I hate that I keep saying I've been complimented...it's making me feel conceited).
My writing really took off when I bought my laptop before college. Now I could type in my room where no one could come and look over my shoulder; I could write on breaks between classes or in Barnes and Noble or during class (though I never did...I would have been the kid that would have been caught). I have four finished novels on my laptop. Will they ever get published? Heck-to-the-no! They are far too rough and hastily drawn out. They aren't solid stories, though the ideas behind them are. But they certainly serve a purpose. The more I write, the better I become, and the more my own voice will appear. If you have ever been inside my classroom (or dorm room...or in a car with me) you know that I am very good at mimicking accents. As a writer, I'm also very good at mimicking writing styles. If I read Jane Austen, I write like Jane Austen. If I read Janet Evanovich, I write like Janet. But the writing-like-myself...Kaitlin's style hasn't quite emerged just yet. I'm working on it.
I feel like a writer most days, but I don't think I can call myself one yet. It would be like saying you were a professional football player before you were drafted, in my opinion. First of all, people don't think it's a real job. They're wrong--it's hard! You have voices in your head (not crazy voices telling you to light things on fire) screaming to be let out, and characters in your mind who can only be given life by you. And you know that if you just change one small piece of dialogue...if the character makes the same statement in a depressed tone of voice, the entire story could change. It's a lot of pressure to tell this character's story and do it justice. I feel like a writer when I can't sleep because I just have to get this out! This summer, while on vacation, I had a dream. This dream was so lifelike, it almost played like a movie. And I literally could think of nothing else for like three days. I didn't even have my computer with me, so I couldn't do anything about it (my fingers type closer to my brain's pace than my hand writes). Over Christmas break, I had another dream...such a vivid dream that I had physical reactions to it. I hurt where the characters hurt (like in my knees and shoulders), and my one-mindedness kicked in again; I couldn't do anything but write this story for the next several days. On Wednesday over our snow day, I worked on an old story, and I was at a very emotional scene. I myself felt physically ill; my stomach churned because I, just like the young man in the story, was dreading what was about to happen. Now if that doesn't make you a writer, I don't know what does.
Someday, maybe, there will be a book on the shelves in Barnes and Noble with my name on it (I already have my pen name picked out). I'm even thinking about maybe writing something here on this blog...like making it a series of posts where I post the "next chapter" or what not. We'll have to see; only time will tell!
Stay gold!
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