I’ve been writing stories since I was in elementary school, but never considered myself a writer. I wrote just because. It was something to do. There was no internal need or external reason prompting me to write. So when I stopped writing around junior high, I didn’t really notice or miss it.
I spent the next ten or so years not writing. Then I remembered an assignment from a marketing class I took in college. The professor instructed the class to write out goals. First ten, then fifty and finally five hundred goals each of us wanted to accomplish in our life. One of my five hundred goals was to write a book.
So I started writing short stories determined to get something off my life’s to do list. But the more I wrote, the more I needed to write. And marking a goal off a list mattered less. Now I was writing with a purpose, to give voice to these women in my head, who wanted me to tell their stories.
About a year later, I was watching the press conference announcing the 1999 Academy Awards nominees. To my disappointment, none of the actresses nominated were women of color. This got me thinking about the (lack of) roles available for minority actresses, especially Oscar worthy ones. Then I started thinking about books. I couldn’t recall many contemporary heroines who looked like me, especially in books with romantic elements.
So now my writing had an additional purpose, to write ‘Oscar worthy’ stories featuring heroines who looked liked me. And who transcended stereotypes. Since then, I’ve been writing with these purposes in mind.
Recalling that college class assignment and watching the Academy Awards press conference made me realize the importance of writing. It isn’t just something to do. Writing is a responsibility. A job not to be taken lightly or for granted. Once I accepted this responsibility, I could call myself a writer.
When did writing become important to you? And when did you become a writer?
3 Comments
April 18, 2008 at 12:49 pm
Wow! this is great (but I already knew you were) — I just didn’t know you were blogging.
Thanks for sharing your wonderful story
April 18, 2008 at 3:14 pm
This is a great story. I totally love you. I was fourteen or fifteen, in the eighth grade, and feeling bored and strung out (suffering from anxiety disorder although I didn’t know it) and I needed an escape. One day I got the idea I wanted to write something. I think it was because we’d had this assignment where we had to write a children’s book and I enjoyed it so much that I wanted to write more. But I wrote an entire (very bad) novel on my first try. I never flirted with poetry or short stories, or anything like that. I went from nothing to novels overnight, LOL.
AJ
April 19, 2008 at 6:16 am
lol–I remember my first story. It was a long rambling blatant rip off of an Andre Norton. I wrote fan-fic???
Writing has always mattered to me. I just never gave myself permission to care. Then one day I was talking to Cowboy, and he said (I still remember it was a “pivot” point) “can I read it?” My jaw dropped on the floor. He didn’t have the heart to tell me I sucked, but he did tell me I’d always sucked later, when someone else got up the nerve.
I dedicated my book to him.