I have been writing for as long as I can remember. I was writing in cursive before I even started first grade, and I learned to read before I was in Kindergarten, so that tells you that reading and writing are kind of things I have been trained to do with my life. In elementary school, I remember making my parents edit and re-edit a two paragraph story I had to write that was entered into a grade wide contest to be displayed in the entry of the school. I do not remember what the story was about, I just remember not caring what my classmates thought of my happy dance when mine was picked to be displayed. A few years later, my fifth grade class participated in the D.A.R.E. program. Once a week two police offiers came to our class and taught us about the negative effects of drugs. Part of the program was to write an essay about an article we read about drugs. Most of the people in my class wrote two or three page typed essays. I used a pre lined page out of our D.A.R.E. handbook that if typed would probably be half a page if I was lucky. Needless to say, my jaw dropped when one of the officers announced that I would receive a medal for my essay and would read it in front of an audience at the D.A.R.E. awards for my school.
I always did well in school, but my teachers always seemed to adore my writings, be them creative or academic. In my last semester of undergraduate studies I took my first rhetorical criticism class. We had to write a serious of papers that all led to one cumulative project at the end of the semester. After my second paper received the highest grade in the class my professor had a talk with me about going to graduate school and really putting my writing and research talent to use. I did not have any thing else major planned so I applied, submitted a few writing samples and was quickly accepted into the graduate program. For two years I added on to the paper that I originally wrote in undergrad.
Writting is not always easy for me though. One day when I was looking through an old file my father had sent me that contained every milestone of mine from K-12. In the file was a short story I had written in kindergarten. Suddenly, I had a reason to write. I was going to turn that story into a book. I was going to write a book. Well, it has only been about three or four years and I am STILL working on that lovely book. In academics I could write a twenty page paper in under two hours if I really put my mind to it. No matter how hard I put my mind to writing this book, I seem to always get stuck, or think of an idea to improve a part that I had already finished, which means I have to redo parts again. Editing is even more of a headache. Editing around dialogue is ridiculously difficult at times, trying to use some from of proper grammer outside of dialogue while keeping the dialogue sounding like normal human speech, rather than like robots speaking in perfect grammar.
Writing is not always easy, it is a total pain in the ass sometimes actually. The more I work on my book, the more I find there is a ton of work to do that I have not even started on yet. I will not give up on it though. As frustrating as it can be, as much I am pretty sure it will never really go anywhere, (though getting it published would be pretty awesome) and as much as I think I will never actually be fully happy with my work I would not walk away from something that I have poured my heart, soul and creativity into for years.