I'm 10

I used to love writing as a child. I was that kid who wrote essays and stories in the second through 5th grade that received special mention or put in the school “paper”. I can look back now on it and realize my writing may not have been anything extra ordinary, but my subject matter and delivery made some people assume I had potential.  I used deep feeling and connected with what adults understood. While other children possibly just wrote what they were told to write, or copied words from a book, I pulled my stories from my experiences and laid out my raw emotions for the world to see. Put it this way I never struggled for words. They fell out of me like rain during a storm which turns out to be quite  apropos considering my life at the time.

I will never forget in the 3rd grade I wrote a story of a young girl living in a village, and upon returning from her walk in the woods, she found her entire village brutally murdered by a dragon. I told of burned bodies and her mothers limbs parts spread across the hut they once had dinners in. The charred remains of her baby brother.

How on earth a child of 8 or 9 yrs can show signs in her writing of being aware of such horrors and not be questioned is beyond me. I wish my writing at the time had been enough to spark someones attention my way. Maybe I could have been saved from so many dark and menacing experiences and been able to finish school with a clear mind. The idea of being able to properly focus on education was a dream of mine as a child. I remember loving being taught how to create a story. In the end my home life won the battle. Soon school just became a place I went and no one got beat so I was safe, always holding on to the chilling fear that I had to return home at some point. Of course I realize now my journey was meant to be what it was. I had to live through all of that to be the human being I am. I like me and thankfully I know Im not done writing my story.

I had a horrible childhood filled with evil and torment. Writing seemed to be my only healthy way to release the pain and fear I felt from my surroundings. I utilized many other techniques to ease my troubles but writing always seemed to be the only one who would not betray me. I have pages and pages of journal entries that to me are my precious epiphanies of youth and describe my path to the wonderful life I live now. Over the years I have not shared my writings because I did once and I was told I write like a child. That hurt me and I stopped writing for several years. I needed that time. I needed to miss writing. I needed to grow up and meet others who wrote just for the joy of it and understand how my writing could have and should have evolved from that scared 3rd grader to a full grown woman that I am today. Sadly I missed out on various writing styles, grammar and techniques. I’m sure to the professional writer or blogger I come across as simple minded or lacking proper education for writing. That is ok. I think I need that. I put myself in places that open my eyes to what I need to learn. I want true and valuable input on how to be better at this thing I have cherished so much.

So this is the beginning. I look forward to the adventure. I seek knowledge and from what I have seen of other writers I can learn a lot. Someday I hope to be bold enough to take some writing classes for now I will just get a feel for it by practicing in writing of my life and things I’m passionate about. I am also enjoying so much reading the blogs of good writers. If you read this and know of inspirational bloggers with varying techniques please share.