More on Telling a Story

When I was a child, I wrote almost every day. As a young girl, the world outside my little house seemed to have thousands of possible adventures, characters, places, and histories. I often had new ideas pop in mind. So many of them I would write down by typing up a quick Word document on my dad’s Macintosh desktop computer. Over the years, I collected several notebooks and either journaled about myself or dreamed about someone else who lived a different life from mine. I used to read as much as or more than I would write. Inspired, I would try different writing styles and tones, sentence structures, and even ways to organize story development.

I never dreamed of becoming an author, though I did hope that one day I would publish a novel or two. And I kept on writing from early elementary through college. I recall that I thought I’d do a number of things in life, and not just have one career – and writing would somehow fit in with anything. And I was never immersed in any one story. I’ve always had too many questions to be able to settle. This, I believe, is where the trouble began; when I slowed down my writing. I had no plan.

But there’s something that writing actually can answer to (and reading, for that matter). There is continuous learning and growing by going into the pool of storytelling. Writing is never a simple matter of typing up a few pieces of the narrative or even a finished piece. Life is story – and for a person who has the hunger for putting it down onto a page, the act of writing is a beautiful thing. It never ends, and it is always exciting. Even when it is the hardest thing to do.

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