I practiced writing long before anything else. At the age of 5 I wanted to be able to write my own books. Those books were mainly pictures and a few words but it didn't matter back then as long as I was able to create something I was a happy child. If my imagination wasn't used in someway I would feel as though my imaginary world was real. Some things I couldn't yet explain by writing, so I decided to draw until I could explain it with words.
In school I learned the act of creating magic with the help of a pen and paper. Nothing felt better. I devoted an entire notebook to practicing how to write words correctly. I told my friends stories and showed them how stairs could be a mountain to climb and everytime I visited a relative I gave them one of my drawings because I showed love by giving a person something, by giving them a story.
In fifth grade I was told that my handwriting couldn't be read by anyone. I started improving it, I decided to make it soft and unique. But that comment hurt me deeply at that time so, I turned away from writing for a while and concentrated on painting again. I painted almost carelessly, I wanted to be free and my paintings brought it to light. But in the fourth grade we wrote a lot. I remember how I wondered why some students had difficulties in knowing were to start. -I don't know what to write about! they shouted. The stories came to me somehow from nowhere and I was always finnished before class ended but I still continued on writing my story to perfection at home.
My teenage years were difficult. I isolated myself from people and was afraid to speak with anyone in fear of failure. I was afraid of failure and myself. So writing became a way to communicate feelings and stories from the real world. I wrote deep and dark poems about feeling like an outsider, hiding from oneself and pretending to be something else than herself. Writing saved me and brought light into my personal darkness. My handwriting also started to improve and I found a new method of creating stories; walking while listening to music, the themes of the music I listened to brought stories to life. I also read a lot during this period in order to get myself together, educate myself and find inspiration. And I got an idea for a novel but I wasn't ready to write it quite yet.
Upper secondary school started. I started to know myself a bit better. I realised that history and arts were my passions. In order to learn in school I wrote status updates on facebook about the subjects I were studying at the time. I wrote about physics, biology and praticed my language skills. I begun to learn how to take notes, doodle and make mindmaps during class. I also always carried a notebook for sudden ideas with me. One day however, I had somehow forgotten it at home so I used my phone instead and there has been no going back, whenever I get inspired I write my idea on my phone. Some people think I write a lot of textmessages but the truth is that most of the time I typed something on my phone it was either to google something I was interested in or to write down a poem on my phone. Writing became a 247 process that I couldn't live or study without.
I felt shy when people borrowed my notes at times because I wasn't sure if my handwriting was pretty enough. Suddenly many people around me complimented it and I realised I now had a unique and soft handwriting I once dreamed of. I had been writing so much that it had gotten better over the years. But one schooltrip to France brought up my unlimited love for writing once again. The words came to me one by one as I was walking by the Seine and that summer I wrote my first draft to my first ever novel (hasn't been published yet, isn't quite done yet).
Not only had I improved my handwriting, I had also improved my writing speed which I noticed during the marticulation exam in one of my favorite subjects philosophy, I wrote over 40 pages in 6 hours. Believe me or not but I did it and that is the only special talent I have, so I'm proud of it.
What I want for Christmas isn't a perfect relationship or expensive gifts. I want to find plenty of new writing ideas under the Christmas tree and maybe also a trainticket to this exact moment, because I always tend to think about the past and the future instead of the present.
Have a great week!