Why I Write

I have always loved words. When I was a child, my mother took my two older brothers and me to the library at least once a week, and I devoured the books I read. In school, I prided myself on reading more quickly than the other students and my place in the Red Birds, the group of the best readers in first grade.

It makes sense then, that when I needed an outlet, I turned to the one thing that had been consistent in my life for as long as I could remember. I chose to take my own words and combine them into my own sentences, paragraphs, and stanzas. My family has never been emotional. We talk about the weather and our accomplishments in school and what we’re having for dinner, but we do not talk about our feelings. I wrote for myself because it seemed wrong to share those feelings out loud. My creative writing tends to take on the form of a stream of consciousness. Not really a story or poetry, but somewhere in between, more nonfiction than anything, and it is the way I understand myself best. It is a flash into my thoughts, ideas, and feelings.

For me, writing has always existed on two planes: the emotional and the practical. The emotional side was what first created a love of writing in me, and it opened the door for the practical side. I found that I could take those same words that I used to sort through my feelings and use them to express anything that I wanted. At some point the practical side took control, making that kind of writing something I want to do professionally, while creative writing is something I do just for myself in my free time. The world of professional writing can be just as beautiful as creative writing, but it is even more amazing when a report or a white paper becomes a form of art.

I write practical pieces because Marion Ruivo gave me As on all my essays in 7th grade and because Tracy Mocon told me I could in 12th grade. After three years of giving me mediocre grades and writing the infamous words now etched forever into my memory “dig deeper” onto everything I wrote, the words Ms. Mocon wrote on my end of semester portfolio took me by surprise. “I certainly hope you continue to write—when you take your time, you write papers that come alive—papers that are passionate… I was always hard on you because I saw that you had talent.” I always knew that I loved to write, and I thought of myself as a good reader, but in the back of my mind, there was always doubt. I didn’t know if I was just fooling myself with my ambitions to be a writer, until I saw that Ms. Mocon believed in me too. If she had not written those words on my senior year portfolio, I would not have majored in writing at Grand Valley State University and I would not be where I am today: a college senior about to embark on the next phase of my writing journey.

I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen next, but I have an idea. I plan to work in publishing, where I can still be surrounded by books and words and intellectual thoughts. Books are what started this journey, and I think they are necessary for me to sustain it. However, I want to take it to a higher level than just reading, and be involved in the actual production of books. I want to edit and promote and help others become the next great authors. Eventually, I hope to work for Random House, which according to Book Business magazine, is the best book publishing company to work for.

In my spare time I will continue to write, both the personal, reflective expressive writing that I have always relied on and the professional, practical writing that I have grown to love. Eventually, I will write something that I think is good enough and worthy enough to be shared, and I will submit it to a magazine or a journal. I may no be published right away, but I will keep working, keep thinking, keep writing, and keep improving until I have made a name for myself. My dream is to be the kind of person that students discuss in class. No one outside the writing community may have any idea who I am, and that is okay, but the insiders, the ones who really matter, will know my name.

The harsh reality is that I am graduating from college in a period in history in which jobs are rare and employment is a blessing. I will probably have to settle for something less than desirable, but it will only be temporary. I will not allow myself to settle and be unhappy for long.