When I was younger and people asked me what I wanted to be I would quickly answer a writer. I desperately wanted to write. I remember sitting for hours reading descriptive prose and being transported and inspired by it. Even at a young age I longed to write words that moved, entertained and dare I say changed people.
I was in middle school when my first poem was published in a national magazine. I was so proud. Looking back on it now, it makes me laugh that my family didn't really see it as a big deal. My parents were convinced that I would never be able to make a living writing and as practical parents, they reminded me about that at every turn. I wasn't deterred.
I wrote plays. I wrote poetry. I journaled. And then I started writing a novel. It was rough. It was exciting. But I was writing. And then somewhere in my mid-twenties, my writing stopped.
Well, at least my expressive writing.
I got a job as a newspaper reporter and then later parlayed that into the technical writing field. And all of the sudden writing became my job. I was paid to write and honestly a lot of the pleasure went out of it.
I learned to be succinct...not descriptive. I wrote technical documents and lost touch with writing to capture the emotions of the moment. I wrote policies and neglected the narrative. And sadly the writer inside of me died. Well actually I don't really think she died as much as she went into a coma.
Recently the desire to write has been renewed. And so I am writing again and it feels good. What will come of it? I have no idea, but for now becoming reacquainted with the old writer inside me is a great place to be.
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