Today is a big day in the writing community–the twenty-something writers’ blog has been launched! The first writing prompt given to the contributers is tell us about your writing history, so I’m going to give it a go.

Honestly, I didn’t like English/language arts until I was in high school. Before that, I enjoyed writing, but I didn’t care much about grammar and how to write. Once I entered high school, I became aware of grammar and how much I adored it. My freshman English teacher taught us that “a lot” is, in fact, two words rather than the one word we had been using. I felt, before that, that I hadn’t been learning about the English language–as if my teachers didn’t care about giving the correct answer after circling a word that was incorrect with their infamous red pen. They were just there to tell me what was wrong, not what was correct.

I, of course, began to write poetry–mostly poetry that rhymed; then I actually learned more about poetry, that it didn’t have to rhyme, that there was a correct way to write it. My sophomore year of high school, I moved to Florida to be with my granny while she had lung cancer. I wrote most of my poetry the summer before that–all about how angry I was at god or whatever for making her sick, for taking her away from me that August, for not being on my side. Writing became my best friend, something I could turn to when I couldn’t stop the tears from sliding down my face. From that point on, I used writing as a venting mechanism–and I still do, which is probably why I think I write my best when I’m upset or angry.

When I moved back to Tennessee, after seven months of being away, most of my writing halted. I didn’t really know how to write happily, and I felt that anything I wrote while I was happy wasn’t good enough. I still wrote for school, however; and somehow, even if I waited until the night before it was due to write a five-page paper, I would make an A, and it just came so easily to me. All through high school, I took honors English just for the simple fact that it involved more writing. Even when I hated what I was writing about, I still enjoyed the entire process. When I entered my first semester of college, I made a 100% on every paper that I turned in…

I wanted to be a journalist, of course. Most people that have a love for the English language want to have a career of sorts that leans toward it. Journalism and/or English were my two career choices. However, I realized money is a huge factor in deciding a career no matter how much we don’t want to believe it. Therefore, I will not be going into either field–though I suppose I still have time to change my mind–but I will always enjoy writing. Still, I think I am not good enough. Sometimes I try too hard. Sometimes I don’t try hard enough. My love for writing, though, is infinite.

P.S. Today is my brother’s thirteenth birthday. Aww, he’s a teenager!