How Writing Began

To be honest, there was no defining moment in my life when I suddenly felt the burning desire to write. It sort of just happened. All I can remember is that I was in JSS2 when I wrote my first two poems called “Life” and “Best Friends”. Reading them now, they seem very crude and forced, but I guess that’s normal.

I simply loved my English teacher at the time, so I gave them to her to look over. She read them, looked at me with an expression I still can’t figure out, then told me that she loved them, that they seemed like they’d been written by someone older, that I shouldn’t stop writing.

And so it began. During my secondary school days,I must have written at least 60 poems, though I never kept track of all of them. Most were written just to pin down whatever emotion held me hostage at the time. Then, of course, there was my novel which I started in SS1 and abandoned about three chapters in…

Poetry has always been my staple, it’s almost instinctive to me now. It’s the fiction and articles I struggle with; writing anything longer than two pages feels like homework to me sometimes, like I’m going to get graded afterwards.

I have never written “professional” poetry; I probably never will. Sometimes it takes me weeks to write a poem. It starts out as a quickening of my heartbeat, a general restlessness, a feeling of dissatisfaction, a strong leaning towards listening to loud music alone in my room, a kind of boiling of my blood…

Finally, I climax violently, suddenly rushing to my pen and paper (it must always be pen and paper), scribbling and crossing out frantically. At that point, I am truly not myself; lost in in emotions, in words, struggling to quiet my heart, striving to scratch the itch in my veins. Afterwards, I lie curled up, hand on my notepad, my body trying to normalize…

Sometimes it doesn’t go so well, though. I start to write and stop, frustrated and feeling powerless. What I see on paper does not even begin to reflect the turmoil inside of me.

As for my pieces; articles and short stories, they are never truly fictional. I personally don’t believe that a person can write a story without leaving some little fragment of himself in it, like a brand name forever etched into a product. There is always a tiny piece of me in everything I write. Something/ someone I want, wanted, saw, heard, wish for, dream of; someone, something!

Basically, I write for me, but with the tiny hope of someday connecting with you.

10 thoughts on “How Writing Began

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  2. rethots says:

    “… a quickening of my heartbeat,…scribbling and crossing out frantically…” Tis the moment. Heartfelt writing are most often borne out of inspiration.

    “…donโ€™t believe that a person can write a story without leaving some little fragment of himself…like a brand name….” Very true

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  4. messymusings05 says:

    I write about a variety of things too but my passion is short stories or flash fiction. It feels good when you suddenly realize what makes you tic as a writer. I think you should put together a collection or work and have it published. What is the worst that can happen? What if no one ever took that step forward. We would not have anything published to read ๐Ÿ™‚ Go for it!

Spill the tea, sis.

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